


the stars can all fall

by dragon_rider



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Coming Out, Depression, M/M, Making Up, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake breaks more than their relationship the day he leaves Adam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majestikmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majestikmoose/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake is a douche in this, guys. For real.
> 
> If you need to know more before reading, check the notes at the bottom.

“I’m sorry,” Blake says, like he’s apologizing for burning some eggs on the stove, “I thought I could do it but I—it’s too much, Adam. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

Adam swallows, pushing down everything that wants out of his mouth at that moment—the screams, the wails, the accusations.

 _Bastard_ , he should be screaming, _you promised me. You promised me you’d do it for us._

He’s eerily calm instead. He feels like someone just poured a melted iceberg over his head; he can’t react, can’t do anything but blink up at the man he’s been sharing everything with for the past year and wish with every fiber of his being that this is just one of Blake’s stupid jokes.

He won’t laugh if it is but he’ll forgive him because he loves Blake too much to resent him for anything he does, for anything he could ever do.

“I understand,” he chokes out.

It’s not a lie; he always knew Blake was the one giving up the most to be able to be with him. He’d been so thankful, so amazed that Blake loved him enough to do it.

And now.

Now he discovers that Blake doesn’t and something snaps inside his chest. Either his heart or his soul, it bends and breaks and the cracking sound resonates in Adam’s mind, its echo carrying a kind of phantom pain with it that he can’t describe because he can barely stand it.

He startles when he feels Blake’s thumbs brushing his cheekbones.

When did he start crying?

“I knew you would,” Blake murmurs, sitting on the coffee table to be level with him and kissing the tip of his nose. His voice is filled with remorse but too even, too firm for Adam to even believe for a second he could convince Blake of staying with him, “I wish things were different, baby, I really do. I’m going to miss you so damn much.”

More tears fall from his eyes at that. Blake nuzzles his cheeks, filling the gaping silence with more apologies as Adam sits fisting his hands not to cling to Blake’s shirt because he’s not allowed to do that anymore.

He’s not wanted, not loved. He has to let go even if he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have a choice.

He’s never been so blindsided in his life.

He really thought Blake was going to move in with him and take his hand to announce to the world they were together. They’d been planning it for months and the Country artist never faltered, not for one moment.

There was just no way Adam could’ve seen this coming.

“Can’t we,” Adam hiccups an entreat, the last of his strength compressed in a single small question, “Can’t we just go on keeping it a secret?”

 _It doesn’t have to be goodbye_ , he thinks, despairing, _please, don’t give up on us_.

Blake parts enough to look him in the eye. There’s pity in his and that’s new, it’s not what Adam is used to seeing in those cerulean blue eyes at all.

He tries searching for Blake’s true feelings for him in them, shining so bright as they always did whenever they were alone or in the company of family and close friends, but there’s nothing.

It’s all gone.

Adam lost Blake’s love without even noticing.

“Adam,” the taller man says tightly, “Where would we go? There’s no future for us. This is it, as far as we can go.”

“Right,” Adam concedes, ducking his head and biting his lip. He’s never felt so small, so stupid. “Sorry.”

 _Sorry for believing in you_ , he doesn’t say, _sorry for thinking you needed me as much as I need you._

“I should go,” Blake states, uncomfortable. His hands slide from Adam’s cheeks to his shoulders and pat his knees one last time before stopping all contact between them, before letting go of him for good, “I’ll call you, okay? There’s no reason we can’t go back to being good friends. We’ll just need some time.”

Adam nods even though it’s for nothing—Blake isn’t even looking at him anymore. He’s already walking away from him, making sure to leave his set of keys before closing the door behind him.

The rattling of the keys as they touch the table and the clunk of the door closing are the loudest things Adam has ever heard.

***

He’s still on the couch where Blake left him—in every sense of the word—when someone shakes him awake.

He’s cold and his head feels heavy and too full. His eyes sting when he opens them, puffy and red, and it’s like they were just waiting for Adam to be conscious again to start shedding more tears with Blake’s name on them.

“Adam?” James asks, his voice strained with worry, hands gentle as they guide him to a sitting position, “What happened? Where’s Blake?”

“Shit,” Adam swears, curling in on himself and shutting his eyes tight to pretend his friends aren’t in his living room staring at him because he’s a fucking idiot and he forgot they were all coming for dinner to celebrate that Blake and Adam were finally taking the next step in their relationship.

He swallows thickly, wiping his cheeks with shaky fingers. His mind races through all the options he has to word what happened and each of them hurts more than the previous one.

_He dumped me._

_He left me._

_I lost him._

“He’s not coming,” he explains, quiet, looking down at his lap. James is crouched in front of him but he’s just a blurry mess through the tears, Adam can’t see him even with his eyes open, “He said it was too much.”

“He broke up with you?” Matt asks, vexed, “Just like that?”

There’s a collective intake of breath when Adam nods and then a chorus of curses and Adam has to cover his mouth with a hand to stop himself from crying out like a baby.

It doesn’t help much. As soon as James climbs next to him and pulls him to his arms, he’s weeping so hard he feels he’s falling apart.

He hasn’t cried like this since Frankie died.

The irony of Blake never forgiving him if Adam went and got a tattoo to remember him by is not lost on him. He knows now that his boyfriend—ex, his ex—was always embarrassed about what they had, about being with Adam.

And how can Adam blame him?

He’s selfish, childish, obnoxious and shallow just to name a few things. It’s a wonder, maybe, that Blake tolerated him as long as he did.

Their first and last anniversary will haunt Adam forever.

_“I love you, I love you so much,” Blake whispers, his mouth wet and hot in the shell of his ear as he spoons the smaller man from behind. They’re both panting and sweaty after making good use of the king-sized bed covered in a thousand rose petals in Blake’s rental place at L.A. He kisses the space behind Adam’s ear, making him shiver, and then nuzzles all the way down the side of his neck like a junkie that can never ever have enough, “Christ, Adam, the things you do to me. I wish I could give you the world.”_

_Adam laughs, his heart threatening to burst in his chest with just how fucking happy he feels. He still can’t believe what a nice surprise Blake had for him, all the romantic things he planned to celebrate their first year together as a couple._

_It’s been the best year of his life and it’s all thanks to Blake._

_He doesn’t know what he’d do without him—he’s glad he doesn’t have to figure that out._

_“I love you too,” he promises, tilting his head just enough to brush his nose against Blake’s with a dopey smile on his face, “I don’t want the world, dipshit, I just want you.”_

_Blake gives him the biggest, brightest grin and pecks him on the lips, laughter dancing in his eyes. “That I can give you.”_

***

Jesse cooks a light meal for everyone. Mickey feeds Bones and Charlie who curl under the table while they eat.

Adam picks at his food, barely sips the strong drink PJ mixed for them.

He hasn’t stopped crying but at least he’s quiet now, breath hitching every now and then when he’s not careful enough to reel it in.

He feels the kisses Blake laid on his stomach that very morning, his soft drawl whispering praises to Adam as they made love in his bed bathed in daylight.

It’d been so intense but Adam hadn’t thought any of it. Sex was always like that with them; passionate to the point of collapse. He didn’t know that had been Blake saying goodbye, taking him again for old times’ sake.

What little he manages to eat, he throws it up not even ten minutes later.

He’s too upset. Water is the only thing he can keep down.

His friends and bandmates nurse him through the night, taking turns to sleep and to try to cheer him up.

Adam cries through it all and sleeps fitfully when the first rays of sunlight filter through the blinds.

***

Days go by.

Eventually, Adam tires himself out and sleeps most of the time instead of sobbing through it.

He still cries when he’s awake. He has no idea how much time has passed. He finds he doesn’t really want to know, doesn’t care enough to ask.

James is the most persistent with him, hovering over Adam until he’s drunk at least a couple of glasses of water and helping him get into the shower when he starts to smell.

His mom comes over sometimes, his siblings too. Some part of Adam is embarrassed to death they’re seeing him at his worst but he can only accept the hugs and gentle coddling and keep breathing—it’s as much as he’s capable of. He’s that pathetic.

No one mentions Blake after a while. At least not by name—he’s ‘that asshole’, ‘that son of a bitch’, ‘that douche’ and everything worse and in between but never Blake anymore.

It suits Adam just fine. Even hearing his name on the radio or the TV hurts like a punch in the gut, leaves him breathless and grasping for the composure he hasn’t recovered since Blake left him.

He can’t listen to Blake’s songs or any music, for that matter. Turns out Adam’s favorite songs are all about love and every one of them reminds him of Blake or what they could’ve had together if Adam had been enough to make him _stay_.

He doesn’t sing for the longest time since he started singing in school. He doesn’t think much of it—he can hardly speak, singing is just out of his reach.

He finds it difficult to remember why he should even bother. His voice has never been particularly good—an acquired taste, maybe, and he wonders if his looks would even be something to be remembered without his tattoos.

Is there anything really special about him that’s worth keeping?

***

His only lucid time of the day is whenever someone sits with him and puts some movie with aliens or cartoons that Adam can watch without thinking about Blake every five seconds.

Today is the last Transformers movie and Adam snuggles to James’ side, sighing when his friend kneads the back of his head absently as the action unfolds on screen.

“This is nice. Thanks, James,” he whispers during a particularly boring scene, hiding his face in the blond’s sweater.

His friend seems surprised but touched, looking down at him as if babying Adam more often than not wasn’t a chore at all. “Don’t mention it.”

Adam is still waiting for the robot dinosaurs to appear when James pauses the film and smiles at him softly.

“How do you feel about some popcorn, buddy?” he asks, already moving to stand up.

Adam clutches at him tighter, still has something to say before he’s too ashamed or broken to admit it.

“You shouldn’t do this,” Adam says, making an effort to raise his voice because this is important.

James furrows his brow, confused. “Make popcorn?”

“Bother,” Adam corrects, looking at his friend from his comfy place on his shoulder, “With me, I’m not—I’m not worth it.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” James argues, reaching to grip Adam’s shoulders and shaking his head, his hair swinging to both sides with the movement, “Adam, I know that jerk made you feel like you don’t matter but you do. You do, do you hear me?”

Adam tucks his head under James’ chin, biting his lip not to start sobbing again.

He nods, hoping that’s enough to change the subject. He stretches an unsteady arm for the remote and grabs it with his fingers buried in the long sleeve of his hoodie and presses play before James can say more.

Sounds of shooting fill the room and Adam settles back against his friend’s side.

“You’re important to us,” James tells him all the same in the next lull of the movie, “You’re important.”

He begins to cry again, wetting James’ neck with his tears. The guitarist doesn’t complain or even tense but Adam feels so stupid.

It seems like everything he remembers how to do is crying and that makes him so angry but there’s nothing he can do. His mom took him to a doctor and every pill they tried makes him either even more sleepy or upsets his stomach more than it is already.

He hasn’t heard from Blake in over two months, the same day his life came to a sudden and painful halt.

He’s not even going through the motions; he’s just sleeping and weeping like a fucking infant.

He’s lost so much weight that most of his clothes don’t fit anymore and he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t look in the mirror to brush his teeth. He doesn’t shave—either James or Michael do it for him every couple of days.

He feels like he’s dead inside. Most days he wishes he was actually dead and so he sleeps; it’s the next best thing.

***

A new season of The Voice approaches—too fast for his liking but then again everything moves fast when you’re still—and the mere idea of spending that much time near Blake’s side makes him shake.

He remembers what they both said about quitting the show—no off seasons, just keep going until it didn’t interest them anymore. But this isn’t the case at all, Adam is just incapable of doing anything productive and being around the man his heart refuses to forget won’t help him.

He could ask his therapist to write some sort of medical excuse for him. He’s pretty sure he has depression, even if no one dares to say it in his presence, but he’s not ready to have that leaked to the press.

He’d rather just close that door. The show is something he associates with Blake too much anyway. He can’t keep it in his life if he wants any control of it back ever.

He writes a formal e-mail to the producers, apologizing for not signing for another season but not giving any explanation. He doesn’t say it’s time for him to move on—that’d be kind of ironic since it’s the one thing he can’t do.

It hasn’t even been an hour when Carson shows up at his gate.

James is in charge of babysitting today but he’s snoring softly in one of the guest rooms and Adam hurries to answer the door before he can wake up, feeling guilty enough as it is for disrupting his friends’ lives as much as he had ever since Blake decided Adam wasn’t worth all the trouble and called it quits.

The host’s friendly smile dies on his lips the minute Adam lets him in and he takes a good look at the front man.

“Adam,” he breathes, eyes widening as he pulls Adam into a hug, “Oh my God, are you sick? Why didn’t you tell me? I had no idea, I’m so sorry.”

Adam hugs him back briefly, going back to hide behind the sleeve of his sweater and tugging at the hem of it awkwardly when he remembers yet again what a fucking wimp he is.

He’s not even really sick; he’s just fucked-up because he was dumb enough to forget how to live without Blake.

“I’m not,” he amends, quiet. Carson takes a seat beside him, reaching to squeeze his forearm as Adam holds his legs to his chest and moves his toes nervously, fishing for some way to explain it without making his friend hate Blake too because the Country singer doesn’t deserve that, “I’m just having a hard time getting used to—to being alone again. I’m just being an idiot, that’s all.”

“What?” Carson asks, dumbfounded, “You guys broke up?”

Adam’s eyes still well up with tears at the mention of it. He nods and offers a tight, forced smile. “Yeah, we, huh,” he clears his throat, glad he’s not looking at Carson’s face as he speaks, “We did. I don’t think working together is an option, I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand,” Carson reassures him gently, “You don’t have to apologize, Adam. Jesus, you guys were doing so well I didn’t even think that was the reason you turned us down. I’m sorry.”

Adam sighs, nodding. He’s so fucking sorry too.

The silence is awkward until Carson talks again, tentative.

“What happened? Did you have a fight? You don’t have to tell me, I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to help, Adam.”

Adam laughs, the sound pitiful and broken just like he is. He thinks about being tight-lipped, giving Blake a chance to explain it and keep Carson’s friendship but he’s so tired and confused.

He needs to know if his friends and family have been exaggerating, if Blake really did a horrible thing leaving him like he did.

To him, Blake did the right thing.

Choosing his life over Adam’s love—why wouldn’t he? What could Adam ever give him that made the sacrifice worth it?

“I don’t—I don’t _know_ , Carson, I just,” Adam gulps, willing his impending break down to wait until after he’s said what he has to, “We talked about coming out, about Blake moving in with me while we looked for a new place. He seemed on board with everything until—until he wasn’t anymore. He broke it off and left.”

“He panicked,” the host says, sounding so livid Adam lets his gaze wander up and stares at him. He’s never seen Carson looking so mad, “He did this to you because he panicked. I can’t fucking believe it. How long has it been?”

“Ten weeks,” Adam replies, scrambling to defend Blake because Carson might as well have said _I will fucking kill him_ for how angry he sounded, “He had a lot to lose. It’s understandable. Please, don’t be hard on him.”

“Adam, he said he didn’t mind,” Carson stresses out, as if Adam needed any reminder of the countless times Blake vowed he was going to follow Adam to the end of the world if he had to, “I heard him boasting about it more times than I can count. He knows what he did is inexcusable. He’s been avoiding my calls and Usher’s and just about everyone else’s who knows about you two.”

Adam ducks his head, rubbing his cheek against his knee, at a complete lost about what to do.

He’s heard Jesse yelling how he’s going to punch Blake’s face at the first chance he gets but he’s never thought there was someone to blame in this except himself for not seeing it coming, for being so foolishly in love he forgot people can fall out of love and do a lot of damage if you let them.

“Maybe I pushed him,” Adam says in a small voice. He doesn’t believe what he’s saying because he was always careful to only take what Blake gave him but if it keeps Carson and Blake as the close friends they are, then he can lie, “Maybe I asked for too much.”

Carson wraps his arm around Adam’s shoulders, pulling him to his side and leaning his chin on Adam’s messy hair. “You never did. Blake told me you were the most understanding partner he ever had, that coming out was his idea. You don’t have to protect him, buddy. He knows what’s coming to him. Just focus on getting better, okay? You don’t need him. You deserve better.”

Adam makes it that far without crying. It’s a lot, all things considered, and he doesn’t feel guilty when he burrows into Carson’s chest. He shakes his head, chest heaving wildly when he uncoils from his position and grips his friend’s jacket with shy fingers, his arms between them as Carson holds him close and shushes him gently.

“I miss him so much,” he admits brokenly.

Carson stays a long while. He’s still there when Adam wakes up after crying himself to sleep, his brow furrowed in a concerned frown when James tries coaxing him to eat and only gets Adam to munch half of an apple and down some yogurt before curling back up in his bed.

He doesn’t remember how he got there but it’s nothing new. He usually wakes up in his room after falling asleep in weird places in his house.

He doesn’t think they realize he’s still awake or that their voices carry from the other side of the door.

“He’s doing better,” James assures Carson, “He eats a little on all meals and showers in the morning most days. You should’ve seen him the first few weeks. We couldn’t get him out of bed and he wouldn’t eat. That fucker did a number on him. You better keep him away from here or we’ll make him pay, I swear.”

Adam doesn’t listen to Carson’s answer.

He nuzzles the back of Bones’ head and dozes, the warmth of his dog’s furry back lulling him back to a dreamless but peaceful sleep.

***

It’s the first day that Adam feels like there’s hope for him after all.

He doesn’t know how they managed but the guys have kept his mind off of things for almost the whole afternoon and he’s laughed so much his tummy hurts but in a good way.

He’s relaxed and almost content for the first time in ages, thinking perhaps he could sing a bit as James strums some notes in one of his guitars.

He’s scratching the back of Charlie’s ears when his phone rings and all the fleeting mirth escapes him like water rushing down a drain.

It’s _This Love_ —Blake’s ringtone. It used to be just a joke but now it’s oddly fitting in some verses.

Adam answers quickly, silence swallowing the easy conversation and activity around him because they all know who is at the other end of the line. “Hello?”

“ _Hey, Adam_ ,” Blake greets, his drawl sweet and cheerful as if he hadn’t broken Adam’s heart and left him to try to live with it in pieces, “ _Been a while, hasn’t it?_ ”

“Hi,” Adam mumbles, standing up from the couch to lean against the wall, already dizzy with how hard his heart is beating in his chest, “Yeah.”

“ _What have you been up to, rock star?_ ” Blake asks, laidback.

Adam has to squeeze his eyes shut. He’s not ready to be friends with Blake again, he’s certain of it, but he also knows he won’t be able to say no to him.

He wants to see him, to hear him in person.

He doesn’t care if it hurts too much.

“Not—not much,” he stutters, “You?”

“ _Touring, just came back last night_ ,” Blake replies and Adam tries to will his mind not to recall how zealous the older man always was after coming back from the road, how he’d fuck Adam on the first available surface and make him scream as he groaned just how much he’d missed Adam and how much he longed to take Adam with him everywhere he went, “ _I have to be at L.A. in a couple of days and I was thinking we could meet, if it’s alright with you? I miss you a lot, you know, it’d be great if we could hang out just like the old times, what do you say?_ ”

It’s no use. He can feel Blake’s lips almost everywhere and his skin tingles with it, turning cold as ice when no kisses follow the tease of the memory.

“I miss you too,” he whispers, hoarse, seeing his bandmates tensing through the corner of his eye, “I’ll—I’ll be home if you want to come over.”

“ _Awesome. I will, buddy_ ,” Blake states, rushed after some voices are heard in the background, “ _Listen, I gotta go but I’ll ring you before stopping by. See you!_ ”

“Okay,” Adam agrees, strained—not that Blake seems to give a shit about that, “Bye.”

Adam leaves his iPhone back on the coffee table and huddles on the couch, pulling up his hoodie in the hopes his friends’ glares get a little less intimidating if he does.

It really doesn’t do much.

“Adam, are you fucking nuts?” Jesse grouses, “You can’t just let him waltz back in your life after what he did to you! Look at you, you’re not okay!”

Adam cringes, knowing he’s right, but before he can come up with some lame excuse to see Blake James sits next to him and holds him, letting Adam seek shelter in the crook of his neck.

“You’re not helping, dude,” James reproaches, “He still loves the bastard, you know that.”

“Sorry,” Adam mutters, snuggling against James to stop trembling so much, “He said he wanted to be friends and I—I just want to see him again.”

“You still miss him,” Mickey mumbles, irate, “Unbelievable.”

“Not helping,” James repeats through gritted teeth, holding Adam protectively against his chest, “We’re here to help, not to make him feel worse, guys.”

“It’s been almost three months, Adam,” PJ remarks, his tone carefully calm, “He didn’t call you sooner to know how you were doing or anything, he doesn’t care. You can’t be friends with someone like that.”

Adam holds back the sobs as long as he can—which is just a couple of minutes, really, and fucking pathetic.

James rocks him back and forth, murmuring reassurances and promising he’ll be there if he wants to see Blake that much. He even vows not to break Blake’s nose, making Adam chuckle weakly when he jokes about not being so sure about kicking him in his tenders.

He falls asleep to the sounds of his friends arguing with each other in hushed voices, hoping they can give Blake a chance to show them he’s a good guy despite of the feelings he doesn’t have for Adam any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake will make it up to Adam. There's a happy ending for them. You know I'm a sucker for those if you've read my stuff before.


	2. Chapter 2

James was there when Adam’s previous relationships crashed and burned. He was there when Anne dumped him in one of the rudest ways ever and he was there when things with Behati went south.

He knows Adam loved both of them dearly but the misery they caused Adam is nothing compared to the clusterfuck Blake left in his wake when he changed his mind about getting serious with Adam.

He doesn’t get it—the stuff he missed, the signs he didn’t see, how he’d been so fucking convinced Blake loved Adam and meant every word he said about them and their future only to witness how his best friend got his heart stomped over and spit on without as much as a heads-up.

Blake always seemed so candid. The way he looked at Adam had been so adoring, so worthy of a hundred cheesy songs about finding that one person you were meant to be with.

He can’t begin to imagine how Adam feels, if even James could’ve sworn they were it.

He’s frustrated, to put it mildly. The guys are angry too but James takes great care in never showing it much around Adam. His friend needs nothing but sympathy and support right now and all the negativity they’re feeling won’t do him any good.

He misses Adam so much. He hasn’t been the same since the day that was supposed to be one of the happiest of his life and ended up being one of the worst.

He’s been catching glimpses of him lately, after long weeks of watching how Adam lost his will to exist, and that fills him with hope and joy.

He won’t let Blake ruin Adam’s progress. If that means he has to stay and meddle, so be it. The chances that Adam complains and pushes him away for it are so slim it makes him sad.

His best friend—the lively, unapologetic man he’s known for years—would never let someone else fight his battles for him. But this version of him, hurting and small and vulnerable as James has never seen him, doesn’t even want to stand up anymore so it’s up to him to protect Adam and give him time to put himself back together however long that takes.

It’s going to be a long time, from the looks of it, but James will stick around and have all the faith Adam doesn’t have in himself anymore.

Adam’s phone rings—it’s Blake and _This Love_ only plays for two seconds, James picking up before Adam can wake up from his nap.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” he tells Blake grimly as hello, “If you want to see Adam for real, we need to talk first.”

Blake agrees—not that James gives him any other choice—and promises to be there in twenty minutes.

He’s at the gate in fifteen but James is already there, arms crossed and glare armed with all the resentment he’s been bottling up for the man.

He told Adam he wouldn’t hit Blake but there are other ways to hurt. Stick and stones aren’t the worst things you can throw at a person.

“Heya, James,” Blake says after waving his driver away, strolling to greet him as if it were his right, “How’s it going?”

That he seems so confident he can come to Adam’s house after what he did almost has James shaking with rage.

He cracks his knuckles, the noise and his stance snapping the man out of whatever delusion of normalcy he had in his empty head.

“If you have a problem with me being here, might as well get it out in the open, buddy,” Blake states, tensing, “I’m listening.”

“Are you?” James inquires, punching the door’s code and beckoning Blake to follow him just enough to have some privacy, “Okay then. First of all, who the fuck do you think you are? You broke every goddamn promise you ever made to Adam not caring what that could do to him and now you want back in his life? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What?” Blake blinks, stunned and seemingly oblivious, and James wants to sock him even more, “What are you even talking about, man? My break-up with Adam was amenable. We decided to give each other space so being friends again would be easier so yeah, now I’m back in his life. I’ve never wanted him out of mine. You know how much I care about him, I made sure not to hurt him more than what was unavoidable given the situation.”

“You’re so full of shit,” James spits out, “You know what, I do know how much you care; not even a little bit. You only wanted to save your ass from the fire and hightailed the minute your reputation was in danger and to Hell with Adam’s feelings in the matter, right?”

“What makes you think you can lecture me about the choices I make?” Blake grunts, annoyed, “Yeah, I changed my mind about me and Adam, you think you can judge me for that? He understood and that’s all I care about, pal, so if you excuse me I’d like to see him now.”

James could insult him a lot more but since Blake seems so fucking sure he did nothing to Adam, he decides to let the state of his friend speak for itself.

If Blake ever loved Adam even half of what everyone thought he did, then he’s going to feel guilty as fuck and it’s the least he deserves.

“I’m gonna let you in because he wants to see you but I’m warning you, if I think your presence is doing more bad than good I will kick you out so fast you won’t know what hit you, understood?”

He gets a little red in the face but nods which is somehow satisfying to watch. James can tell Blake wants to kick _him_ out but knows it’s not his place; if Adam wanted to be alone with him, he’d ask James to leave.

He opens the front door and Charlie goes to greet them but stays close to his thigh, barely paying attention to Blake who pets her head as they go in and seems more confused by the second. He was probably expecting to see Adam around being his usual hyperactive self.

He has another thing coming.

“Where’s Adam?” he asks, looking around, “Is he busy composing or something?”

“He’s sleeping,” James answers, “I’ll go wake him up. Wait here.”

Blake blinks, baffled, but sits his ass down without resistance.

James takes the stairs two at a time, gently pushing the door to Adam’s room when he reaches it. Adam is buried under at least three thick blankets and wearing a hoodie, his cheeks flushed with sleep and his hair sticking up in every direction since he hardly uses product to tame it anymore.

Today he shaved by himself which would be a greater achievement if James wasn’t aware he did it to look better for Blake. He remembers how Adam used to giggle while he shared with him how much Blake liked the skin on his face to be smooth, wiggling his eyebrows as he made at least three lewd comments hinting to the reason why.

He misses those times. Adam had been so happy. Blake is an asshole but he’d made Adam he happiest he ever was. He has to give the jerk that much.

He touches Adam’s shoulder gently, rousing him just like he’s used to do by now. “Hey, buddy.”

His friend’s eyes flutter open slowly. He can tell he’s not fully awake yet when he grips his sleeve and tugs him to the bed, eyelids already half-closed. “Not hungry. Sleep with me?”

James takes off the hoodie from Adam’s head carefully, his hand staying to card through his friend’s hair in a gesture that he hopes can bring him some comfort. “He’s here.”

Adam gasps, sitting up in the bed fast. It shouldn’t upset James; how the singer looks down at himself and winces, rushing to the bathroom to wash his face and wet his hair a little, but it does.

It’s painful to watch—how Adam’s eyes dart quickly from the mirror to his clothes and his hair, inspecting and disapproving, and how he stops mid-way from reaching to put some cologne on. He also stops two steps towards his closet, making a weak sound in the back of his throat and covering his face with his hands hid in the long sleeves of the hoodie.

James doesn’t need to be a mind-reader to guess what his friend is thinking; Blake is just a friend, Adam shouldn’t try to impress him. Those times are past them now.

“I can tell him to go away,” he offers when he catches Adam’s eyes glistening with tears, “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, Adam.”

“I—I know,” Adam replies quickly, ducking his head and sighing, “I just—I wish he didn’t have to see me like this.”

“It’ll be fine,” James soothes with a smile and quips, “You showered, right? You’re presentable.”

Adam snorts, swaying a little on his feet and clinging to James’ elbow when he rushes to steady his too thin friend.

They go down to the living room and he could swear time stops when Adam and Blake see each other; Adam falters in the last step of the stairs, gaze fixed on the giant asshole sitting on his couch, and Blake stands up and walks to him, open-mouthed and appalled.

“Adam,” Blake breathes out, so softly James barely hears him, “It’s—it’s good to see you.”

He sounds winded and throaty like someone just knocked the air out of him. It serves him right; to see what he’s caused without having any warning that could soften the blow.

Adam smiles coyly, fortunately unaware of Blake’s reaction, and kneels to let Charlie kiss his face when she whines for attention.

“Hey. You want something to drink?” Adam says, looking up at Blake as fondly as he’s been doing ever since they got together, “I think I still have some of that crappy beer you like.”

“That—“ Blake stammers, voice cracking, “That’d be nice, thanks.”

James can’t help but be amazed at Adam’s absolute lack of bitterness—his friend’s heart is so big and there’s so much love in it.

Blake has no idea what he gave up but he’s starting to realize that, if the thunderstruck look on his face is any indication.

He finds that he’s not even that much angry about the visit. Adam sounds like himself again and Blake is upset; it’s going pretty damn well.

“James?”

He shakes his head, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. “I’m good, Adam. Thanks.”

The second Adam turns around and heads to the kitchen, Blake doubles over on his seat and buries his face in his hands.

“What happened?” Blake asks, straightening just enough to look at him, “He’s lost—what, twenty pounds? And he was taking a nap? He hates naps!”

“ _You_ happened,” James hisses briskly, “And trust me, _pal_ , we all wish you never did.”

Blake is white as a sheet by the time Adam comes back with beer for him and a bottle of coconut water that he caps and uncaps nervously as he sits in the other end of the sofa Blake is occupying.

The space between them is very telling. It’s a distance that was never there before, not even when they first met.

“How was touring?” Adam asks when it’s obvious Blake won’t do shit to break the awkward silence, “Where did you go, anywhere interesting?”

Blake looks almost sheepish as he answers at first, until he gets lost in the retell of his concerts and seems to all but forget about what he’s just found out.

Adam listens to him raptly, chuckling at his jokes and smiling as he huddles against the couch’s arm. Blake includes James in the conversation, charming and funny as usual, and he has to make an effort to be civil instead of biting Blake’s head off for the sake of Adam’s good mood.

He notices Adam fighting against fatigue not too long afterward, eyelids dropping heavily as his chin leans on the armrest. He’s quick to bring some sandwiches he made earlier so Adam can eat before nodding off for the day.

It might not be enough for Blake as dinner but he gives no fucks about that. He’s annoyed at the man again, can’t believe the asshole has spent the last two hours talking about nothing but himself.

He might as well be rubbing in Adam’s face how well he’s been doing without him. That Adam doesn’t seem to mind or is surprised at all about that makes his chest ache.

Adam chews one sandwich absently before dozing. James crouches in front of him, fixing his clothes.

Blake finally shuts up as he’s waking Adam gently, just enough to get him to his feet.

“C’mon, buddy, you didn’t brush your teeth,” he reminds Adam, taking him to his room with an arm around his waist.

He’s there to steady Adam as he goes through the motions in the bathroom; taking a leak, brushing his teeth and opening the bottle of the prescription pill that helps a bit with his mood but makes him too sleepy to take at any other time but at night.

Adam is always cold nowadays so he tucks him under the covers with the hoodie and sweatpants he’s wearing. His best friend is out like a light before his head hits the pillow, arms reaching out to the empty side of the bed for someone that hasn’t been there in a long time but is still missed and needed.

He leaves the door ajar and almost bumps against Blake, swearing when he catches the tall man looming there in the dark.

“You should leave,” he tells him, aggravated. Honestly, he thought Blake would bolt the second no one was looking to never come back to see his handiwork again, “You know where the door is.”

“I didn’t know,” Blake drawls, dismayed, his face sweaty as he rubs it with a hand, “You have to believe me, James, I didn’t know Adam would take it this hard. He didn’t even yell at me that day, just accepted it quietly. I thought he was going to move on.”

“I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth,” he declares, harsh, “Not anymore. If you ask me, I’d say you would’ve carried on with what you wanted to do even if Adam screamed bloody murder at you.”

“But I would’ve called sooner,” Blake insists, urgent, “I would’ve checked on him, made sure he didn’t do this to himself.”

James laughs mirthlessly at that. Of course Blake would think he would’ve made all the difference—he’s full of himself like that and he doesn’t know just how bad Adam got, how impossible to help he’d been at first.

It took them long weeks to make Adam understand he was worth the trouble for them, even if he was convinced he was worth nothing—still is, deep down, if James is honest with himself.

“Did you meet someone else?” he asks, icy, “I hope whoever they are that they stab you in the back just like you did to Adam. Now get the Hell out of here, before I make you.”

“Fine,” Blake bites out, shoulders slumping as he turns around to head for the stairs, “But I didn’t, for the record.”

Hearing Blake leave isn’t as filling as James thought it’d be. He drops on the sofa and sighs, setting an alarm on his cellphone to make sure he’s up before Adam can wake up to have breakfast ready for them and clean all traces of Blake’s presence from the house too.

It’s early in the evening but he’s tired and he’s learned is easier to follow Adam’s strange hours than try to change them.

He really wishes Blake gets hit by a truck on his way out.

If that makes him a horrible person, well—there are worst people in the world and Blake is one of them.

***

_“Dinner?” Adam asks him, laughter in the quirk of his pink lips and the spark of his hazel eyes, “Sure but you should be more careful, cowboy, one might get the wrong impression when you ask like that.”_

_“And what impression is that?” Blake cocks an eyebrow, his hands curling around Adam’s left hip and the side of his neck, feeling the slender man’s pulse jump under his thumb and smirking when he catches his co-star’s eyes widening, “That I want to take you out on a date? ‘Cause that happens to be exactly what I wanna do, rock star.”_

_“Blake,” Adam breathes, his attractive features slack with astonishment._

_He chooses that moment to grip Adam’s nape and lean down to meet his lips with his, to Hell with timing and consequences because it just feels right. It’s something he’s been longing to do for years and it’s better than he ever imagined; Adam’s lips are soft, his breath minty, and their mouths slot on top of one another like pieces of a puzzle._

_It’s slow and sensual, the first kiss they share, and it doesn’t even need tongue to be one of the best Blake’s ever had. Adam drives him crazy with just the slide of his lips on his, playful and skilled as he tugs at his bottom lip and ignites fireworks behind Blake’s eyelids just with that._

_When Adam opens up to him, letting their tongues rub eager and hot and chase each other as they taste and retreat in a dance that’s both natural and irresistible, is the best goddamn thing he’s ever felt._

_The shock of it travels down his spine, turning his jeans uncomfortably tight and his knees weak with desire. He stumbles to pin Adam against the wall, the hand on the jut of his hipbone sneaking under Adam’s tee to touch warm and smooth skin._

_He’s sure he’ll never forget the feel of Adam’s breath hitching in his mouth, how pretty his eyes look hooded and fixed on his lips when they part for air._

_“You gonna wear something nice for me, sweetheart?” Blake asks huskily, enjoying how Adam’s hands remain gripping his back and the lapel of his jacket as if letting go didn’t even compute as an option._

_“Hmm, I don’t know,” Adam replies, teasing, “But maybe I’ll let you take it off if you’re nice enough, baby.”_

_He laughs, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Good answer,” he commends, diving in for another kiss._

There has been no one else, not since their first kiss—and if Blake is honest with himself, he knows there won’t ever be.

Leaving Adam’s house after learning what he did to him isn’t easy. He’s practically sobbing as he waits for his car, every cell in his body screaming at him to go back and grovel to get Adam to forgive him and take him back.

He wasn’t lying when he said he’s missed him—he has, more than anything, and the only times he doesn’t feel sad and empty are when he’s on stage and he can forget what he had to give up to keep doing what he’s meant to do.

Country music has always been his number one priority. Adam came a close second until it was either one or the other and on lonely nights, Blake almost regrets his decision.

He was kinda hoping they could get back some of what they had—their friendship, mostly, and if he got really lucky the incredible sex they used to share. He’s always horny when he’s back from a tour and he thought that Adam would only agree to see him if he was on board with being fuckbuddies as well as friends if he made it clear he was overly excited after playing venue after venue and got back to an empty bed.

It didn’t turn out like he was expecting. It was downright horrible, worse than any nightmare he could ever have and he should’ve suspected it when James picked up instead of Adam.

The contempt in the eyes of the blond didn’t escape his notice. It stung, it sure did. James had always been the closest to him of all the friends Adam introduced to him. He seemed to genuinely like Blake, always laughing at his antics and encouraging him to come over and visit whenever he could.

“He’s unbearable when you’re not here,” he remembers James joking only for Adam to screech indignantly from somewhere close and laugh, agreeing with him as he kissed Blake’s cheek.

“What can I say? I’m spoiled,” Adam would say, grinning, “I admit it. I love this jackass and I love that he’s mine.”

It was hard, tossing in every hotel bed he stayed in. He couldn’t help but search for the little body he loved waking up beside to, feeling a sharp pang in the middle of his chest when he remembered Adam would not be waiting for his return this time because he had burned that bridge.

Half of him had been stupidly hoping Adam would surprise him in one of the locations and assault him with lusty kisses and touches, demanding Blake to make it right, until Blake had no choice but to accept he couldn’t live without him and agree to have a secret relationship with him again, fucking him hard against the wall to seal the deal and relish how little and pliant and nimble Adam’s body would feel against his.

He knows why that didn’t happen now. He’s never felt worse than this, can’t believe he had Adam’s heart between his fingers only to drop it like a hot potato when it got inconvenient and was too caught up in his own shit to realize he was breaking it like no one else ever had.

_“I love you,” Adam says, kissing his brow as he cups Blake’s head in both hands and wriggles a little in his lap, his warm gaze making Blake a little woozy inside, “You know that, right?”_

_“Hmm-mm,” he harrumphs, considering, “Maybe you like me a little, I give you that.”_

_“Asshole,” Adam retorts, smiling as he tips his chin to nuzzle against his neck and whisper right in his ear, “You’re everything to me.”_

Lots of people say shit like that when they’re in love; Blake’s heard almost every variation of it. When Adam said stuff like that to him, he never took it seriously. He thought Adam was just being romantic but exaggerating his own feelings, like most people do.

He forgot Adam has never been most people.

He’s been such a fucking idiot.

He’s half-way down a bottle of Bacardi when the doorbell rings. He gets up to see who it is, still steady on his feet despite of the amount of tequila in his system.

He’s never been a lightweight. That was always Adam; he was the most adorable, handsy drunk and got there with about three shots of the good stuff.

He almost slams the door in Carson’s face when he realizes it’s him.

“Don’t you dare,” the host spits out at him, furious, “We need to talk and you’re listening to me either inside or through this door, that’s up to you, buddy. I will shout exactly what I think about you to whoever wants to listen if you want to keep hiding from me.”

It’s a threat and he knows it. Carson, smart motherfucker that he is, must’ve figured out the reason of his abrupt break-up with Adam and knows Blake can’t have anyone knowing what they used to be.

He sighs heavily but lets the man in. They’re still friends after all, or so he wants to believe, even if he’s been avoiding every text and voicemail from the host for the last three months.

Carson could’ve been one of the few people who could talk him out of ending things with Adam and he couldn’t have that, not back then.

“Have you seen him?” Carson inquires, not beating around the bush. His arms gesture wildly as he speaks and Blake squares his shoulders in response, very much aware his friend wants to punch him right in the face among other things, “Have you seen him at all since you dumped him?”

Blake nods, serious, and walks to pour another glass for Carson since it looks like he has a lot to say even if Blake doesn’t want to hear it.

“Saw him today,” he reveals, extending the drink to the host who takes it and flops on his couch still looking like he could slice Blake’s throat if he lets his guard down. He takes a seat opposite to him and sips, quiet, “I never thought me leaving him could do that to him. I mean, you know him, he always bounces back from what other people say and do to him. I thought—“

“You only thought about yourself, Blake. Admit it,” Carson interrupts him, leaving the glass on the table between them with a loud clack, “You know you’re not _people_ , you know how much Adam cares about you. Hell, you told me you couldn’t believe it sometimes—how much he was willing to accommodate to you, how you wished you’d met him sooner because he made you feel like no one else mattered but you.”

Blake grimaces, looking down to the liquid in his hands as his heart tosses and complains between his ribs, shrieking and yearning to have Adam back.

He’s been trying so hard to convince himself he doesn’t love Adam anymore and this isn’t helping any—seeing Adam and hearing Carson are only undoing all his hard work, the love he’s been keeping for Adam hidden and smothered inside his chest throbbing like a living thing, threatening to kill him if he doesn’t free it.

“You really thought someone who loved you that much could endure what you did without breaking apart?”

“I—I didn’t,” Blake’s breath hitches and he bites his bottom lip, glowering at the regret he feels swirling like a tornado in the works inside of him ready to lay waste to everything he’s ever tried to achieve in his life, “I didn’t mean to hurt him! You should’ve seen him when I told him, he was fine. He told me he understood and didn’t argue with me at all.”

Carson glares at him, unimpressed. “Oh, because if he did argue and screamed at you what a fucking liar you are you were going to change your mind and stay with him, right?”

“My label found out, alright?” Blake bursts out, chucking the glass away from him and tugging his hair with his hands after rubbing his face roughly, desperately, not caring when Carson flinches with the noise and stares at him like he’s gone mad, “They told me to end it if I wanted to keep the rights to my music and to keep working with them and I did. It’s taken me months to convince them I only want to be Adam’s friend this time around.”

The host doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. “Do you?” he asks, harsh, “Do you really think you guys can be just friends after everything you’ve been to each other?”

“I’m willing to try,” he answers, exhaling roughly as he struggles to regain his poise, “And so is he. I’m not making him do anything, Carson. If he wanted me out of his life, he’d say the word and I’d leave him alone. Can you stop trying to make me look like the bad guy here? You have no idea what I’ve been through lately. This hasn’t been easy on me either, you know.”

“You look okay to me,” his friend is quick to counter, “And if you wanted me to be there for you, you knew where to find me.”

“Right, so you could yell at me like you’re doing right now?” Blake alleges, “I knew you’d take his side, excuse me if I had enough with my own shit to deal with yours on top of it.”

“You were going to marry him!” Carson shouts at him, distressed, “I saw the rings! Adam had no idea about it but he thought you were serious about him! You were supposed to move in with him the day you broke up with him, for Christ’s sake! Are you telling me you planned all that being naïve enough to think your record deal was still going to stand?”

“What if I was?” Blake screams right back, “I’m a goddamn successful Country artist, I thought they were going to see that instead of who I was sleeping with!”

Carson stands up abruptly, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath that Blake doesn’t need to hear to know his friend is utterly disappointed in him and his priorities.

“You are, by the way,” Carson tells him by the doorframe, “You are the bad guy. And I bet you used the show as winning argument with your producers to persuade them to let you talk with Adam again. Well, I have news for you, pal; he quit.”

Blake follows him, scared out of his mind. How is he going to explain his need to see Adam then?

What is he going to do without him?

“You’re kidding,” he rasps.

“No, I’m not. You want to be around Adam? Good luck with that,” Carson sneers, “Even if you grow the balls to be true to your own feelings, we’re going to give you Hell.”

Carson slams the door on his way out.

Blake barely hears the noise, staggering back to the couch with the phantom feeling of Adam’s tiny arms around him and the squeaky but endearing sound of his laughter after one of Blake’s lousy jokes.

_“You’re so dumb,” Adam says lightly, smiling at him with his head upside-down, stretching with the sheet tangled around his groin and not much else at the edge of Blake’s bed, “One day, it’s gonna bite you in the ass, you know.”_

_“I’d rather bite your ass, thanks,” he quips, brushing his hair and cursing that he can’t just pounce Adam instead of meeting with his manager for lunch._

_“I’ll see if my ass wants to wait for you to get back,” Adam teases, sleepy eyes already half-closed as Blake leans down and pecks him on the chin as goodbye._


	3. Chapter 3

Adam stirs, stray rays of sunlight making it through the blinds to tease the skin of his face with warmth.

He blinks, bits and pieces of the previous day coming back to him slowly.

Blake had been so surprised to see him for a moment Adam thought he was going to crack a joke about Adam’s sorry appearance—it was what he did every time something stood out like a sore thumb; make fun of it.

Maybe James warned him not to. Adam wonders if Blake feels more powerful now that he knows the mess Adam is without him, if he’s glad he got rid of him when he could.

He should, he thinks, who would want to be with a guy who can’t even take care of himself?

Fuck, he can’t believe he fell asleep with Blake right there. He didn’t even have a chance to thank him for calling him, for being strong enough to fight to get their friendship back.

He trips to the bathroom, falling on his knees to gag for minutes that feel like hours, too upset to do anything else.

James finds him, draws a bath for him while he rubs at Adam’s back and promises he’ll feel better in a bit.

It’s wishful thinking probably, but it does make Adam feel better. He wheezes and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes darting between the patient expression in his best friend’s face and the tiles of the floor.

“Did he say he’ll call later?” he asks, small, and when James shakes his head he swallows back a whimper, “He’s not coming back?”

“I don’t know, buddy,” James answers honestly, “Come on, let’s get you in the tub.”

“Okay,” Adam concedes meekly and raises his arms for his friend to help him undress.

He’s trembling but the hot water helps. He tries not to see how his bones are jutting everywhere, how sallow his skin is. He asks James to wait outside and his friend complies but hovers just outside the door in case Adam decides to drown in the bath instead of washing himself.

He breathes in the aromatic salts James put in the tub, almost feeling Blake’s broad body behind his as he closes his eyes.

_“Do you like it?” Adam asks, tilting his head back to look up at his boyfriend and catching him scrunching his nose in deliberation._

_“Hmm,” Blake hums, sticking his nose in the crook of Adam’s neck, his big palms resting on his flat stomach, “Smells nice on you, I’ll give you that.”_

_He kisses Adam’s wet shoulder, scruff scratching the skin there to turn it a darker shade of red than the temperature of the bath managed._

_He kisses Adam full on the mouth next, deep and shameless, filling Adam’s groin with molted heat with each glide of his lips and each flick of his tongue against his._

_It’s not the first time they make love slowly but somehow the splash of the water around them as they move against each other makes it more intimate, the tiles on the walls giving extra volume to their pants and groans._

_He squeezes Blake’s thighs with his hands, pushing his body back against him as Blake pushes forward and into him._

_Blake misses the point of aromatherapy completely but Adam doesn’t mind at all._

_It’s one of the hottest moments of his life._

***

_It isn’t often that Blake gets to have Adam like this; so lithe and loose after finally getting a day to themselves that he can’t even gather strength to close his legs and lie down properly on the mattress._

_He makes the prettiest, lewdest picture and Blake drinks it in hungrily. He watches as Adam pants on top of the covers, savoring how his chest heaves and his legs remain sprawled and slightly bent, exposing the tenderest parts of his lover to his greedy gaze._

_Adam’s inner thighs are pink and sticky, tendrils of lube and Blake’s seed oozing out of his entrance with the same lazy sensuality he seems to perspire._

_“Who’s the old man now, huh?” he teases, taking pity on his beautiful lover and rearranging them in the bed to lie on their sides, even getting them under the covers since he knows Adam gets chilly easily and wrapping his arms around his tiny waist. For a six foot man, Adam always feels incredibly small in his arms and he’s a little in love with that, “You can’t even move, look at you.”_

_The younger man chuckles, cuddling against him and tipping his head back with that purse of his lips Blake knows means he wants a kiss._

_Blake indulges him, feels powerless to do anything but, and they exchange a languid and long kiss, breathing through their noses and smiling like the couple of lovesick idiots they are when they finally have enough just for now._

_“You’re gonna put me in a coma one day,” Adam divulges, making it sound like a blessing, husky and content, “You’re gonna be the death of me, cowboy.”_

Blake straightens the collar of his shirt, feeling sick to his stomach, and saunters to the red carpet of the new season of The Voice anyway because it’s his job and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it.

When they ask him about Adam’s departure, he’s tempted to be his usual smug self.

 _He obviously got tired of losing to me_ , he’d say if the circumstances were different but they’re not so he bites his tongue and swallows, the weight of what he’s done to Adam suffocating him.

“It’s not gonna be the same,” it’s his only comment on the matter, his gaze turned to the side just where Adam should be if they were doing press for the show together, “Not without him.”

***

Gwen agrees to replace Adam at short notice so they start tapping the Blinds right away with Pharrell and Christina as the other two coaches.

The girls are ecstatic about having a fellow female on the panel and things are light and easygoing with Pharrell praising them every chance he gets, Blake carefully keeping his brooding to his chair and hoping his mood will improve once talent start showing on stage.

It doesn’t—the contestants are amazing and some of them even get Blake to press his button for them but he doesn’t fight as hard as he used to. He’s not eloquent, not fired-up and judging by how they keep bypassing him to go with the other coaches they can tell too.

Some people do choose him and the tapping goes on. He gets scolded by the producers about his attitude and doesn’t have any excuse to give. He can’t tell them the reason he’s so quiet and sullen is that every time he searches for Adam’s eyes he sees Gwen instead and it all feels so fucking wrong without him he only gets moodier and moodier.

He has such a hard time pressing his button he messes up the whole programming and makes them call back some of the people no one picked so that Blake can fill his team. It’s something they haven’t needed to do since season one and Blake knows it’s unprofessional, knows his agent will have his head for this but he can’t go on doing a lousy job.

And without Adam, there is just no way he can do it right.

He apologizes to the artists he’s chosen so far, assuring them they’ll be in better hands with him out of the picture, and quits.

The contract stipulates he has to give the show monetary compensation for starting the season all over again and he does.

Pharrell and Gwen try to talk him out of it—even Christina joins them, although she clearly expects Carson to follow and is perplexed when that doesn’t happen.

“What’s going on between you boys?” she asks, frowning, “Where’s all this hostility coming from?”

Before Carson can say anything, Blake decides to man up.

He feels it’s the least he can do, since Carson hasn’t told anybody what he did despite he’d pretty much deserve to be hated for it.

“Y’all know of my relationship with Adam,” he cuts in. The three coaches nod and stare at him so he takes a deep breath and continues, “I had to end it and it didn’t end pretty. I—I fucked up. Carson knows what I did, that’s why he’s mad at me and you should be too. You should be.”

“Blake,” Gwen exclaims, gawking, “I don’t get it, you were so in love! What happened?”

He bites his lip. “It’s a long story,” he drawls even though Carson is giving him a dirty look and obviously thinking it’s not, “Just don’t waste breath on me.”

He can see Pharrell pacing with his phone in his ear as he makes a beeline for the door. Judging by how his face is pinched in concern, Blake can bet he’s talking to Adam.

He doesn’t stay to wait for him to learn the truth and hate him.

***

His agent and his PR team almost have a stroke with the news of him leaving the show.

He fires them all.

***

“ _Hello?_ ”

Blake presses the heel of his hand to his eye and breathes harshly—he wasn’t exactly expecting Adam to pick up the phone, even if he did dial his personal cellphone number.

“ _Blake?_ ”  Adam says, timid, “ _I can hear you breathing, you know._ ”

“Adam,” he finally articulates, disappointed in so many of his own decisions he doesn’t know how to keep going anymore, not without going back, “Adam, baby, I—gosh darn it, I missed you so much on set. I couldn’t do it without you, I quit too.”

Could it be that all this time he’d been holding back? Could it be that a part of him knew he’d never be able to build a life with Adam, that falling in love with him would be entirely too dangerous for whom Blake liked to describe himself as?

Whether that’s true or not, it doesn’t matter anymore. It didn’t work. Blake fell all the same and crushed Adam under his weight when he tried to run away and tripped.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Adam whispers after a bit, “ _I thought it’d be easier for you if I left. You were always better at it than me after all_.”

Blake can’t say he’s surprised that Adam doesn’t complain for the pet name that slipped from his lips or how he gives Blake a perfect chance to gloat yet again for all the times he won the show.

He just doesn’t feel like it. He’d trade every damn trophy to have Adam in his arms again.

“Guess I needed you there to spur me on,” he says, “I just miss you so much. Being there without you was torture.”

He hears a soft breath, probably Adam sighing, and it’s almost a minute before he speaks again.

“ _Why did you call, Blake?_ ”

 _What do you want from me?_ Adam might as well be asking.

Blake is acutely aware he caused all this and he knows it in that moment—hearing Adam sounding so tired and frail—knows that he regrets it; that he took the wrong decision, that he let go of something he loved dearly only because he was scared of the world.

He thought that if he lost his career in Country music he’d lose himself.

“I needed to hear your voice,” he admits, his voice cracking, “Adam—don’t you miss me too?”

“ _Don’t be cruel, Blake,_ ” Adam pleads, so quiet Blake hears it by sheer luck, “ _You know that I do. Don’t make me say it again._ ”

Adam bids him goodbye tersely when Blake fails to reply.

He stays there, sitting on the edge of his bed—the same bed he and Adam shared many times, either to simply sleep or to make love until they forgot everything else—long after Adam hangs up.

He was so wrong.

Losing Adam—this is it.

***

_It’s a slow day of tapping. The sound techs are having issues so they’ve been on break for almost two hours and Blake can tell Adam is going stir-crazy because they can’t leave but there’s not much to do either._

_It’s not the first time he’s given him a piggy back ride but it’s the first time since they started dating so it feels different—Blake laughs harder, hearing Adam squeak happily from his perch on his back and egging him on to run across the set as if he weighed nothing and for a long moment, it seems like he does._

_Blake feels like they’re on a cloud, his heart light and quick like a humming bird for making Adam so happy there are peals of laughter in his ears even when Blake puts him down for a breather._

_“That was awesome, man,” Adam chirps, his grin wide and beautiful._

_Blake doesn’t really look around—he figures they’re among friends and if there are some contestants lurking then they can sue their asses if they talk too much about things they shouldn’t—he just leans down to steal the breath from Adam’s lungs and enjoys how right his little body feels between his arms, how his lips seem to read Blake’s mind and glide against his just bordering on too sensual but staying sweet and perfect just like Adam always is for him._

_“You do know we just came out to pretty much everybody?” Adam asks, his arms still nestled between their bodies as Blake holds him close to him and nuzzles his forehead, “Right?”_

_“Nah. They won’t tell,” Blake counters, flippant, “And we had to tell them sooner or later so problem solved.”_

_Adam laughs, tugging him down by the collar of his shirt for another kiss._

***

He wants to write a song for Adam. He feels like it’s the least he can do to start making amends, the first step in the long road of winning him back if there’s even such a thing after what Blake’s done.

He ends up with at least twenty crumpled sheets of paper scattered all around him, with salt and pepper hairs he pulled out of his own head between his fingers and with more frustration than he can bear but no words that are good enough, no melody that can express how fucking sorry he is.

He sees Adam’s astounded, brokenhearted face clear as day in his memory—he can’t believe he was able to walk away from him, to convince himself Adam was just surprised and that he’d pull through no problem in a couple of days.

Adam hadn’t said much but his tears—his tears and the plea in his eyes should’ve been clue enough.

Scrubbing his face for another hour gets him maybe one verse of a thing with no start, no ending.

_I can’t change that day_  
 _Go back_  
 _Erase what happened_  
 _Ease the pain_

It occurs to him he’s never tried composing out of guilt and that’s what he tainted the love he feels for Adam with so there’s no going around it.

He fiddles with the two rings in their sizes he’d custom-made for them, thinking he’s failed Adam yet again.

***

_“Watch it,” Blake deadpans, “She could cut your fingers right off with her teeth, I’m just saying.”_

_Adam’s hand freezes in mid-air, his breath catching as he stares up at Blake’s favorite and very temperamental mare that he’s been in the process of getting close to._

_“You’re such an asshole,” Adam grouses, scowling in concentration as he keeps reaching to the horse very slowly and carefully, “Can you just shut the fuck up for a second? If she doesn’t want me close, I think I’ll know before that happens.”_

_Blake shakes his head, touched in spite of himself that Adam is trying so hard not to be the city boy he’s always been for him._

_His mare looks at Adam curiously but makes no move until the front man has his fingers on her nose. Then she nickers, amused and loud, and bumps Adam playfully with her head, staying close so he can pet her properly._

_Blake swears the damn horse is teasing him, looking right at him from over Adam’s shoulder as his little boyfriend hugs her neck and lets her nuzzle his shoulder and neck in return._

I like this one _, she seems to be saying, and Adam is so pleased with himself he smiles brighter than the sun glaring above their heads._

_Blake’s heart pounds so hard in his chest that for a moment he thinks he’s having a heart attack._

_He knew this thing with Adam wasn’t a fling, he always did, but he’s so invested he’s starting to scare himself._

***

He’s never been good at moping.

When he wants something, he fights for it.

It’s what he did to get his career and also what he did when he chickened out of asking Adam for a date every time he tried until he just went for it headfirst.

He’s never regretted either and if he can’t keep the two—if he can’t, well, he had both for a while and it was perfect. He resolves to be grateful.

When he knocks on Carson’s door with booze and a contrite expression on his face as peace offering, his friend stares at him for a long moment before letting him in.

Blake goes for the glasses like it’s his house they’re in and pours them four fingers of the strongest shit they were selling at the shabby store he came across by accident because he still doesn’t know how to drive in this fucking city, not even after all the times Adam tried guiding him through it so he ‘d learn.

He wasn’t even listening, if he’s honest with himself. He just liked seeing Adam beaming and gushing over his home town, sharing something precious to him with Blake.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” is the first thing he says, half choked after only two sips of his drink, “He’ll never take me back now.”

Carson takes his sweet time to reply, draining his glass leisurely before flopping beside Blake and weigh him with his eyes.

“What about your music?” his friend asks, tone carefully blank, “You can’t have both, Blake. I wish you could but you can’t, not in this decade.”

“I don’t know,” Blake answers, open, looking down at his hands in his lap and the sad remnants of alcohol in his glass, “I just know that I miss him so much nothing feels right anymore.”

Carson sighs, squeezes his arm briefly before taking the drink out of his hands. “Blake…”

“You were right,” he cuts in, wiping his eyes quickly when he starts to tear up, “I should’ve asked him to marry me like I’d planned to.”

They’ve drunk the whole bottle by the time Carson pats his shoulder and leads him to one of his guestrooms, standing in the doorway as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I think he will,” the host says, strained, “He will take you back, but Blake—you have to promise me you’ll only ask if you really mean it. Adam can’t handle more disappointment. What you did to him—I’m not sure you truly understand it.”

Blake bites his lip and nods, lying awake in the dark when Carson turns off the light and leaves.

He might not understand what he did to Adam but he wants to—he wants to.

More than anything, he wants to fix this and hear Adam laugh again.

***

“I’m going back to him,” Blake warns Scott, “I love him. I don’t know if we’re gonna be together again or not, but I’m not hiding how I feel about him.”

His former producer looks sadly at him but doesn’t try to talk Blake out of it like he thought the older man would.

“I hope he’s worth it,” Scott says, “You know my number if you change your mind.”

“He is,” Blake affirms, “And I won’t, not this time.”

They shake hands. It feels final in a way leaving Adam never did.

Blake knows a new chapter of his life has started, feels it in his bones.

Scott grips his shoulder after Blake tips his hat at him as goodbye.

“Then I hope he makes you happy, Blake. You deserve it.”

He smiles slightly. He’s not sure about that, not anymore but it still means a lot to hear it from someone that’s done so much for him.

“Thanks, man.”

***

Because mothers—and especially Blake’s mom—have a sixth sense for this sort of thing, she comes to visit without calling or hearing anything on the news since the producers of The Voice don’t want to break how Blake won’t be part of the show anymore until they absolutely have to.

There’s no reason for her to believe there’s something wrong with him and yet she’s here at L.A., making Blake comfort food and smiling fondly at him whenever he stares at her.

Crap, Blake realizes suddenly, he hasn’t told her he broke up with Adam.

He didn’t avoid her like he did with their friends in common but he dodged every question related to him and didn’t once mention him unless she did first.

“I know,” she says when Blake is done putting her up to speed.

She’s not smiling anymore but she’s looking patiently at him, no judgment or resentment in her eyes.

She’s the first person who’s still on his corner after hearing about what he did to Adam and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Patsy told you?” he asks, brow furrowing, “Gosh, ma, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, I know, but—“

“Honey,” she interrupts him, taking his hand in both of hers, “I knew the moment I saw you and you didn’t have that sparkle in your eyes anymore. You were trying so hard not to be upset that I didn’t have the heart to ask you what happened. When you left for your tour, I figured you were going to put it past you like you always do and go back to your music, the one mistress who’s never failed you.”

Blake swallows hard, rubs his mouth with his fingers and keeps them over it as he speaks. “He never—he never failed me. I did, I failed him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and I ran away at the first sign of trouble instead, ruined both of our lives for something I don’t even want anymore. Ma, you have no idea how much I miss him.”

She brushes his hair with her fingertips, gently tucks it behind his ear as she shakes her head.

“You’re both still alive and young, sweetheart,” she encourages him, her eyes brimming with tears, “Death is the only thing that can keep people who love each other apart.”

Blake bites his lip not to cry like a little boy, understanding she still misses his dad and that he should really freaking start thinking before opening his stupid mouth.

“If there’s still love between you two, you’ll have time to make amends. Forgiving is so easy when you love someone, you just need to find the right way to prove him that you love him and he’ll open his heart again for you.”

He sniffles a little, mumbles an apology his mom doesn’t seem to need—she focuses on him, doesn’t get offended by any bullcrap that leaves his mouth, and wipes some of his tears as she tries distracting him with stories of her own fights with his dad.

Blake listens, he does, but he can’t stop seeing Adam curled up fast asleep on the couch.

“I need to see him,” he says abruptly, “He doesn’t know why I did what I did to him, I—I need to tell him.”

She fetches the car keys for him without even looking at the clock.

“Go.”

***

_“We never really fight, do we?” Adam tells him, sounding both amazed and disappointed as he taps some beat on Blake’s chest._

_Blake snorts, calming the extra energy his lover still has in him by manhandling under him in the bed again. “Why the Hell are you making that sound like a bad thing? Gosh, you really are an idiot.”_

_Adam looks up at him through his lashes, laughing as he reaches up to kiss Blake’s frown off his mouth._

_“Make up sex, Blake,” he says, raising his eyebrows as if Blake were the thick one, “Make up sex.”_

_Blake chuckles, tasting some more of the laughter on Adam’s lips—it’s sweet and bubbly and exactly what he needs._

_They don’t need fights to make their love crackle and burst between them—it’s already alive and beating, only growing stronger with every moment they spend together._

_“You want me to make you mad and then fuck you until you can’t walk, is that it?” he murmurs playfully, leaving a hickey in just the right spot to make Adam shiver between his arms, “I think I can do that. We could also just skip to the fucking, what do you say?”_

_Adam pulls him down with both arms around his back and kisses him hard enough to make Blake’s head spin so he’s pretty sure his plan is approved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the verse for Blake's song from [Unfinished memories](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfILtCp86F0) by Eowyn. It's a sad, beautiful ballad. Since we're at it, I took the title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5N46rQzvrE) in case you want to listen to it.
> 
> *Scott is Scott Hendricks, one of Blake's producers. He was on The Voice actually, season 3 if I'm not mistaken.


	4. Chapter 4

_I’m outside_ , the first text Blake sends him says.

For a long while, Adam just stares at it.

It’s three and a half in the morning and it’s one of those nights; he can’t sleep no matter how much he tries, like his body is rebelling against all the time he’s wasted pretending he doesn’t exist, but he can’t do anything either so he just huddles on the windowsill and looks outside into the night without seeing, without being able to look past how hopeless and pathetic he’s become for a man that probably doesn’t miss him half of what he says he does and not even a tenth of what Adam misses him.

Love is such a marvelous but treacherous thing, can give you everything but take it all away from you without a moment’s notice. It can even take you away from yourself, if that makes any sense—it probably doesn’t but it’s the second night in a row he hasn’t been able to sleep and he’s not making much sense these days anyway.

 _Please_ , comes the second text forty minutes later, _I just want to talk._

For a long while, Adam pretends he can actually refuse Blake anything he could want at this hour or at any time.

Maybe a part of him wants his ex to leave, give him time to reconsider whatever it is he’s coming to look for here. He’s not really sure.

The one thing he knows is that he’s tired of being this person, this guy who is an inconvenience to everyone who cares enough to stay around and help him even though he’s not worth it.

He pads as quietly as he can to the gate, his phone tightly clutched in his left hand but hidden from view by the sleeves of his sweater. Jesse is sleeping upstairs and he has his number a button away from being dialed, knows that if he’s not strong enough to make Blake leave then he can count on his friend to do it for him.

He promises himself it’ll be one of the last times he asks something like that from anyone.

If he’s not strong ever again after this, well—he’ll fake it and hope somewhere along the way he can forget it’s all a lie, just like the love of his life turned up being.

“Hey,” Blake greets, uncharacteristically sheepish, “I’m sorry for just showing up like this but there’s something I need to tell you, something you need to know.”

Adam notices instantly the older man has been crying—he sees the red in his eyes and the rosy tint that lingers beneath his stubble and on his neck, sees how bright misery seems to shine in his blue eyes, and stopping himself from comforting him hurts almost as much as losing him did.

Adam just wants to hold him in his arms again and it’s the one thing he can’t do.

It’s killing him.

“You’re just here to talk?” he has to make sure, has to ask, “This isn’t you looking for a booty call?”

He’s not ready to have sex with the lights on and Blake has never been someone who likes doing it in the dark like it’s something to be ashamed of, something dirty and meant to be hidden.

He was always so unapologetic when he touched Adam—it was one of the things he loved the most about the Country singer but even if he didn’t look like he’s anorexic now he doubts he could go through with it after—after—

_It’s too much, Adam. I can’t do it. I can’t._

_I know how you get after a tour_ , Adam doesn’t say but he can see Blake got the message by the way he gawks at him, _I know you._

Blake rubs his nose with a hand, the way he always does when it’s tickling with bottled up tears.

“I’m here to explain,” he replies, voice clogged, “I know it won’t fix what I did but you deserve to hear it from me first, Adam. Please.”

Adam blinks at the implication, wonders if he really got that right and Blake is thinking about going to the press to spill his guts about whatever it is that’s been going on with him that caused him to get tired of Adam, to have second thoughts about the life they wanted to build together and to decide the love he had for Adam just didn’t cut it anymore.

Adam is willing to bet Blake just realized he couldn’t have everything and made the most sensible call, the one Adam should’ve been ready for but wasn’t.

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles at length, turning and expecting Blake to follow him through the back door.

His legs are so wobbly he doesn’t make it far into the house. He simply sits on the floor with his back against the island and turns himself as small as he can, trying to get his stupid whimsical heart to shut the fuck up because Adam is well aware already that everything he wants and needs is right in front of him but he also knows it’s not his anymore.

When Blake reaches out to touch him, he flinches and tells himself the hurt he catches in the Country singer’s features is his imagination and nothing else.

Blake drops heavily to the floor in front of him, crossing his legs and digging his fingers into the denim on his calves. His boots are just a breath away from touching Adam’s bare feet and Adam stares at the space between them, wishing he could figure out what he did to put it there.

Sometimes, he thinks, your best just isn’t good enough.

“I love you,” it’s the first thing out of Blake’s mouth and Adam tenses, can’t believe he can actually be this cruel to him—just to him and no one else, “I know I’ve done the worst job ever at showing it but—but, Adam, that’s because I’m a fucking idiot not because I don’t love you.”

Adam’s thumb flirts with the touchscreen of his phone. With a sweep, Jesse would come down and deal with Blake instead of him and this horrible pain wouldn’t go away but it’d get dull enough to let Adam breathe at least.

He wants to be mad at Blake, he really does, but try as he might there’s not an ounce of bitterness for the man in him.

There’s just the same stubborn love he hasn’t been able to shake off.

He wants to hold Blake so his voice stops wavering.

He clenches his jaw, starting to shiver not to break down and cry for the umpteenth time.

“Is that all?” he asks, voice low, since it seems Blake is waiting for him to go on.

It’s so quiet Adam hears Blake’s breath hitching, has to frown to stop from looking up in a moment of naïve curiosity, hoping to maybe find something other than guilt in Blake’s eyes.

“Adam, I know I don’t have any right to ask but—could you please look at me?”

Adam takes a deep breath and peers at him through his lashes. He wonders what it is to Blake, what kind of difference it makes—it’s not like Adam is important to him anymore, after all.

“I never wanted to leave you,” Blake says and he seems so fucking earnest Adam freezes and can’t look back down, “My producers found out I was violating my contract by being with you. They told me I could lose every right to my music if I didn’t end it and I—I made a mistake, Adam, I chose my music when I should’ve picked you.”

“How—“ Adam stutters, “How could they know, Blake? We were so careful.”

Blake shakes his head, a small sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his dimples conspicuous by their absence. “I guess secrets can’t be kept forever. We were careful but they suspected anyway. They had pictures, receipts from our anniversary. I tried lying anyway but you know how well that worked. I was to end all association with you outside of work immediately or lose—“

“Your career,” Adam fills in, frowning. He doesn’t know why hearing this should surprise him but Blake clearly needs him to stay put for an explanation he’d already guessed, “Yeah. I get it. I told you I did, that day.”

“What?” Blake asks him, bewildered, “You knew?”

“I didn’t know you got an ultimatum, if that’s what you mean,” Adam clarifies, shrugging slightly as he squeezes his arms between his legs and his chest and looks down at his hands, “But I knew you chose that life over me and I got it, I mean, why wouldn’t you? What we had was—it was good but you can have that with someone else with no risks, so you don’t have to explain.”

Blake’s fingertips on his chin make him shudder but he takes the hint and looks up, stifling half the flinch he can still feel pulling at his body in pure self-preservation even though everything he wishes is to curl into Blake’s chest and disappear there.

“Do you really think that?” Blake asks, his tone urgent, “That what we had was just good, that I could replace you with some woman and it’d be the same?”

Adam holds his gaze for just one more moment. If Blake can’t see how much he means to him after the mess he’s turned into without him, there are no words Adam can utter to explain it to him and if there were, he’d probably be too tired to use them.

This is what all comes down to; it was Blake who broke up with him, Blake who decided not to talk with him to try and find a way around the situation so they could still be together, Blake who left and called months later as if nothing major had happened even though for Adam it’s been like time has stopped without him, like he’s being dragged in the endless spin of the Earth around its orbit while everything he wants is to get down and _stop_ , just stop so he doesn’t feel this empty and insignificant any longer.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he says and Blake’s fingers hesitate on his cheek, the gentle caress he started coming to a halt as Adam shuts his eyes tight and turns his head to the side.

“Of course it does!” Blake insists, dismayed, “I wouldn’t be asking if it didn’t. Adam, please.”

He bites his lip, pretty sure he’s crying now but too fucking numb to feel anything but the pain this whole conversation is stirring down in his bones. “I know that,” he states, “You didn’t ask me that day, that’s how I know it doesn’t matter. I don’t know why you’re asking now, but it doesn’t change that.”

“Baby,” Blake croaks and he cups Adam’s cheeks, his thumbs gathering the tears spilling from Adam’s eyes without his permission, “Please listen to me. I fucked up real bad and I hurt you, I hurt you after swearing up and down I never would, after promising you we’d be together until you got tired of loving this hick that for some reason got lucky enough to have you but I—I never stopped caring about you or about what you have to say. I was just too worried about myself to see, Adam. I wanted you to stop me from going away but I never gave you a chance to do it and I’m so sorry. I don’t know where to start fixing things between us but I—I want to.”

Adam tries to take Blake’s hands in his to push him away but can only cling to him, his eyes darting in search of the truth in his face even though he doesn’t trust he can read him well, not anymore.

That didn’t sound like Blake only wants to be friends at all.

What is he supposed to do now? Just take him back, pretend he can believe in the love Blake says he still feels for him?

How can he do that when he doesn’t even feel like the same person anymore?

“What?” he hitches, confused and scared, “Why—“

“You’re everything to me,” Blake says, his smile shy and pained, his stupid accent doing things to the pit of his stomach.

Adam can’t help the whimper that rushes out of his throat at hearing him saying his own words back to him after all they’ve been through.

He tries not to look into Blake’s eyes but the blue calls to him, trapping his heart like a vice. “It took me losing you to realize that but you are and I want you back, Adam, I don’t care how long it takes me to convince you –I’ll make it right this time. I won’t fail you again.”

He grips Blake’s wrists tighter even though something inside of him shrieks at him to let go before he’s tricked into thinking Blake loves him again. “You want me back? Even when I look like this?”

“I do,” Blake kisses the tip of his nose just like he did the last time they were this close and Adam’s resolve crumbles like a row of dominoes. He lets Blake pull him into his arms and tucks his head under his chin, breathing into the taller man’s neck raggedly with his hands barely daring to grasp the lapels of his jacket, “And what the hell are you talking about? You’re beautiful. You’ll always be beautiful to me. You look like when you were younger, like this little scrawny dude I wanted to pick up and smooch.”

He wriggles a bit as Blake kisses his hair and stretches out his legs to get more comfortable.

Blake feels just like Adam remembers; safe and soft but strong against him, his big palms slotting on is back as if they belonged there just like Adam’s body fits in his embrace.

“You like me better this way?” he asks, small. He knows it’s fucked-up he’s willing to stay this thin for Blake if he wants Adam to but he can’t help it. He’ll do anything to make sure Blake doesn’t leave him again.

Blake breaks apart enough to kiss his forehead but doesn’t take his arms from around him so Adam’s heart doesn’t panic just yet. “I like you healthy, sweetheart. We’ll get you there again, alright? I’ll be here for everything you need, there’ll be no getting rid of me this time.”

Adam doesn’t remember if he nods or says something else.

He just remembers how warm and blessed he feels in that moment as sleep claims him swiftly. The questions he has about Blake’s career are not enough to keep him up, being sleep deprived and emotionally drained isn’t a good combination to stay alert.

Maybe he dreams that Blake carries him to his bedroom, just like the old times. Maybe he dreams his boyfriend pries his phone gently from his hand and spoons behind him, inhaling deeply as he nuzzles the back of Adam’s neck.

Maybe he’s dreaming all of this, sitting by the window after finally losing the battle against fatigue.

***

He comes to angry voices and sits up on the bed with a jolt, rubbing the sleep off his eyes as he recognizes his friends having a heated argument with Blake downstairs.

He trips over his feet on the way down, ignoring the dizzy spell that always hits him these days when he stands up or moves too fast.

“You’re one selfish son of a bitch,” James says, “Adam is in love with you so he can’t see it, but we all know that for sure now.”

“I know that,” Blake agrees, surprising them and making Adam freeze as he’s coming into the living room, “Trust me, I know. But I want to be better for him and I’m here to stay. He needs me and I need him so if you guys hate me for what I did I’ll just grovel harder until you forgive me. And if that never happens, I’ll learn to deal. Can’t say I blame you if you can’t see past what I did to him.”

“Do you even know what you’re talking about, asshole?” Jesse protests, “Adam wanted to fucking lie down and _die_ after you dumped him. He didn’t say it but he didn’t need to.”

“I’m gonna lay it out real simple for you, buddy,” James spits out, “Thanks to you, Adam thinks he’s worthless now. He’s gonna doubt every little thing you do for him and tell you you shouldn’t do it. So if you think you being back will fix him you have another thing coming.”

Adam chooses that moment to intrude, hugging Blake from behind and hiding his face in his back for a second. He doesn’t want to make any of them feel bad since they’re all doing their best to help him so there’s about one thing he can think to say.

“Please stop,” he pleads, shaky, standing between them after he lets go of Blake, “This is all my fault. If I were okay, you wouldn’t be giving Blake a hard time.”

“Adam, it’s okay,” Blake assures him, taking his hand and squeezing it to get him to look into his eyes, “This is all on me, not you, and I deserve whatever they throw at me. They’re not gonna scare me off, okay? Don’t worry about that. I’m gonna make breakfast for y’all now while y’all sort it out, how does that sound?”

Adam makes a squeaky sound as Blake pecks him on the cheek, refusing to let go of his hand. “You don’t have to—“

“Yes I do,” Blake counters with a smile, “And I want to. Pancakes sound good?” Adam nods, confounded, and Blake kisses his knuckles before leaving him with his bandmates, “Coming right up.”

***

In the end they don’t protest much about Adam’s decision—they don’t seem happy either but they respect him and keep their thoughts to themselves. Either that or James talked them out of telling him how much of a bad idea they think going back with Blake is.

Blake practically feeds him a banana pancake like it’s the best job he could ever hope to get, holding Adam in his lap like they used to do in those morning when the reality they had to let go of each other soon weighted heavily on them and got worse with every tic tac of the clock.

He’s still uneasy, still shaking a little bit, so he leans into James when his friend steadies him with an arm around his waist and takes him to the bathroom to take a hot shower, not leaving until he’s arranged everything inside so that it’s within Adam’s reach and he’s under the spray.

He feels idiotic when he realizes how relieved he is Blake won’t have to see him naked just yet, especially since he’s aware it’s very likely his boyfriend will want to touch him soon and he’ll need to be ready if he doesn’t want to lose him again.

He’s toweling his hair when he hears a thud and stills.

“You’re taking advantage of him, what the fuck?” Blake exclaims, seething, “He’s vulnerable and you’re making a pass on him when he can’t even tell what you’re doing!”

“You would know about taking advantage, wouldn’t you?” James retorts, sounding just as mad, “The only one who’s doing that here is you, asshole, and you have the nerve to get jealous too? Go fuck yourself. I’m not going to stop taking care of my best friend because you’re back. I wouldn’t trust you with a cactus right now, let alone Adam.”

“Look, I’m fine with you insulting me, I really am, but if you take this kind of liberty again, I’m gonna kick you out of here myself.”

James snorts. “Good luck with that.”

Adam stares at his reflection in the mirror, not having the faintest idea how he’s going to deal with any of this but knowing it’d be so much more easier if he knew for sure it’s okay for him to touch Blake to appease him; to kiss him and cling to his neck and assure him there’s no one else he’d rather be with.

He can only sigh as Blake flushes him to his chest once he’s out, glad that James doesn’t stay to witness the Country star’s territorial tendencies that were always kinda there but never surfaced with Adam’s friends.

He’s terrified he’s going to screw this second chance up, the fear throbbing fiercely inside of him even as Blake kisses him soundly on the lips and peppers his face with soft little kisses that make his breath hitch and his eyelids to flutter in wary contentment.

He grasps Blake’s shirt between his fingers, choosing to focus on the fact that he’s back for now.

“There’s—ah,” he licks his tingling lips, cheeks blushing when Blake uses the break to lay lingering kisses on his cheekbone. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be kissed, can’t remember any other touch except Blake’s, “A box with some clothes you left here, if you want to get changed.”

He doesn’t say his friends wanted him to throw everything out but Blake seems to get it anyway, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as Adam kneels outside his walk-in closet after dragging a big cardboard box out of it and looks up at him, taking the cover out.

Blake doesn’t look particularly interested in the contents of it, not even when Adam shows him his favorite pair of jeans he forgot here or one of his worn out but favored flannels.

“C’mon,” Adam prompts with a small smile, “I bet you missed these things.”

There’s a crumpled suit jacket inside too, some underwear, socks and even a pair of boots and dress shoes. Adam always liked to look at them, their presence reassuring and heartening despite they weren’t living together.

If later on they turned into a mockery—well, that’s only for him to know.

He’s really glad he kept everything.

Blake pulls him up to his feet, his mouth brushing the corner of Adam’s lips as he drawls in a whisper. “I didn’t—I just missed you, honey, just you.”

Adam sighs, eyes closing and mouth opening up to the warm gliding of Blake’s lips on his.


	5. Chapter 5

Blake watches Adam as they both catch their breaths, the smaller man looking up at him with a dazed expression on his face that has always looked good on him.

There’s a little bit of a blush on his pale, sharp cheekbones and Blake feels like he’s choking on the sight because it’s one of the many things he missed all this time but he’s acutely aware he doesn’t deserve it, that he shouldn’t be getting it back this easy.

There are tears prickling his eyes when he leans his forehead against Adam’s. He shuts his eyes tight, breathes deep through his nose, and curses himself for being every bit the jerk he swore he would never be.

The man he loves would be giving him hell for treating one of his closest friends like shit but Adam is quiet between his arms, taking in air in little pants while his hands are closed loosely around the material of Blake’s shirt and that’s new too—that is so _wrong_ , because Adam never hesitated when he wanted to touch him, used to be so sure Blake wanted him every second of every day that he never asked or checked first and Blake can only hope he’s in there somewhere inside the damage Blake did to him.

He cups Adam’s face even though he’s the one on the verge of tears and smiles.

Watching Adam blink his eyes open before giving him a small smile makes his heart twinge too. His boyfriend is still so trusting, so devoted despite of Blake’s screw-up he doesn’t understand how he got this lucky.

If he’s not careful, he’ll ruin them both by haphazardly stitching the shreds of their relationship back together because he never actually paid attention where each goes. That was always Adam’s job, it was always him who smoothed their sharp edges and made them fit so effortlessly Blake was convinced there was no way they’d ever misunderstand each other.

He won’t make the same mistake again. He won’t enjoy it without working for it too and he will never, ever take Adam for granted again.

Remembering he thought he could come back and find Adam willing to start over, to go back to the fun parts of being together until Blake was ready to get to the scary part makes him want to punch himself in the face but he doesn’t let any tension bleed to his limbs and holds Adam tenderly instead.

“I should,” he sighs, pausing to kiss Adam’s temple, “I should go apologize to James. I’ll be right back, darling.”

He doesn’t take Adam’s wide-eyed look to heart; he’s never been the kind of guy who apologizes, more like the guy who shrugs and keeps going expecting everything to somehow right itself, but if apologies are going to increase his chances of staying with Adam then he can come up with hundreds and mean every single one of them.

He hears soft, almost shy notes coming from the grand piano Adam keeps in his room when he’s half-way down the stairs and he doesn’t even make it all the way down before Adam’s friends practically tackle him in their haste to climb the steps up.

“Hey, man, sorry I—“ he rushes out as James is dashing past him only for the blonde to keep going with hardly a glance at him.

Blake follows them warily, knowing he’s intruding and their patience is at an all-time low, but they don’t even pay attention to him standing in the doorframe. They just settle around Adam, whether on furniture or even on the floor if they have to, and listen to the haunting melody his nimble fingers are mining out of the instrument like it’s magic.

He sees Mickey holding his cellphone up, probably to record it, catches Jesse hastily grabbing a notebook from the top of an amplifier and scribbling down something that looks like a music sheet.

James starts strumming notes in one of the acoustic guitars beside the piano soon afterward and they’re such a perfect complement to the tune Adam’s still figuring out on the keys that Blake has to grit his teeth against another surge of jealousy.

They get wrapped up composing just like that, reaching into each other’s brains with an ease that kind of makes Blake sick.

He’s always been bitter about this sort of intimacy Adam shares with his bandmates, especially with James, and if he was ever close to getting that with the gorgeous lead man then he’s just cut his progress in half and kicked what was left standing down to the curb with his selfishness.

He drags himself to one of the armchairs and focuses on Adam, smiling in encouragement whenever the younger man turns around to check if he’s still there.

He’s expecting Adam to come to him when they’re done but his little lover stays put on the piano bench as his friends mill out of the room and Blake swallows around the heavy lump in his throat when it doesn’t happen.

Adam turns to him alright and Blake can see that he wants to get closer to him bright as day in his eyes but Adam only ducks his head back towards the piano and hunches his shoulders a little more.

The way he seems to catch himself every time he wants to touch Blake, the way he stills and falters when any other time he'd be all over Blake's space nuzzling his face and laughing softly against his skin, the way he's so openly terrified of Blake slipping through his fingers again if he dares to reach out and grasp—it makes it hard to breathe around the guilt.

He stands up, sits beside his lover with some trouble since the piano is snug in the corner, and runs a gentle hand over his back. It’s all it takes for Adam to practically melt against his side, tucking his head under the Country singer’s chin, and he lets his fingers curl around a bony hip as they can finally slot against each other again.

He held Adam just this morning but he feels his body quivering with withdrawal as if it’d been months.

And it’s been months—some hours of being close won’t change that.

“That was beautiful, Adam,” he praises, voice low, “I bet the lyrics are going to be just as beautiful.”

Adam gives him a noncommittal sound as reply.

He speaks just as Blake’s skin is starting to crawl with how quiet and still his boyfriend is, “Ugh, please take a shower. You stink, man.”

Blake smiles, knowing Adam is scrunching his nose without having to see it.

It’s not exactly his fault that Adam’s bed has about five blankets too many and that he slept curled around Adam dozing in a thick sweater while being fully clothed. “Wonder whose fault that is.”

“Your mom and dad’s?” Adam asks, all innocence, “You sweat like a pig, must be design flaw.”

Blake laughs and lets this tiny glimmer of hope soothe him.

***

He leaves a voicemail for Jimmy Fallon that night before he can chicken out of it.

Adam is sleeping soundly, cradled under his arm like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, and Blake doesn’t want to risk waking him up but he also knows it’s pretty much now or never. Fortunately the only signs the smaller man shows of hearing Blake are a few soft sighs, followed by him burying his nose deeper into Blake’s armpit.

He asks for a favor, begs for ten minutes to get a chance to glue together some of the pieces of the promise he made to Adam, and he’s not really expecting Jimmy to contact him any time soon but the man does and he’s eager to know what Blake has to say. He makes room for Blake right that week which leaves Blake with about a day to say goodbye to his life as he knows it.

Whenever ugly doubt threatens to crawl inside him again, he only has to look at Adam bouncing in the kitchen as he makes them sandwiches or playing with his dogs in the patio to remember that it’s all going to be worth it.

He picks Adam up to kiss him until they’re both breathless and starry-eyed when that’s not enough.

Adam’s smiles are easy but fragile like glass. There’s a shadow in his eyes that wasn’t there before but Blake doesn’t complain or resent it. He’ll take what he can get.

***

“Please don’t go,” Adam says for possibly the tenth time, blocking Blake’s path to the door, “Please.”

Blake is dressed in half of a smart suit, the other half just good old dark jeans and cowboy boots. He adjusts his tie and sighs, checking his watch again. He has just about enough time to make it to the studio considering L.A. traffic and his ride honks again outside, prompting him to simply wrap his arms around Adam’s scrawny frame and take them both out of the house.

“Blake!” Adam tries again, louder and more desperate, “You’ll hate me! You’ll fucking despise me in a few months and I don’t want—I don’t—I _can’t_ —“

Blake hears the _I can’t lose you again_ loud and clear, feels it mirrored in his very bones, and he gives no fucks about the cab driver seeing them. It’s all going to be out in just a couple of hours anyway, so it’s not like it really matters.

He curls his fingers on Adam’s neck and brings him closer to his lips, effectively shutting him up with a hearty kiss that he hopes keeps the younger man distracted until the show starts.

Adam yelps at first but fumbles to hold on to his arms and squeezes him firmly, kissing him back in the same hungry and sensual way Blake’s always been more than a little bit addicted to.

“It’s done, Adam,” he says when they part, gasping and looking at each other’s lips greedily as if they hadn’t just kissed the living daylights out of one another, “My record deal is over, my contract with The Voice is over. This is just making things official and I wanna do this for you, for us.”

“You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met in my life,” Adam grouses and Blake has to steal just one more kiss, smaller this time, because he likes hearing this as much as he likes it when Adam outright tells him that he loves him.

“Love you too, baby,” he says, winking cheekily at him.

Adam shakes his head and waves him away, thankfully giving up on trying to stop him.

Blake sees James coming out of the house to lead Adam back in with an arm around his shoulders and forces himself not to get mad, to remember he’s actually glad Adam won’t be alone while he’s out.

***

“There’ve been lots of rumors going around about you and The Voice,” Jimmy starts casually, cutting right to the chase since they don’t have much time, “Did you leave too?”

Blake is about as subtle as a man his size can be as he accommodates his legs but it gives him something to do other than sweat. He prays he can find the right words in the right moment to say what he needs to and nods, straightening up just a bit on the tiny seat, “You know what everybody and their mother tells you not to do at work but everyone does anyway?”

“Date?” Jimmy offers, “Don’t crap where you eat?”

Blake licks his lip, nods again. He feels like he’s out of breath already and he hasn’t said a thing yet. “Me and Adam,” he says, voice every bit as steady as he should feel, “We went there and boy, did we fall hard for each other. I tried not to, I really did. I admit I only wanted to have fun at first, but he’s—he’s so much more than people give him credit for. He’s as fearless in a relationship as he is on stage; he holds nothing back, and I don’t know how I thought I wasn’t gonna end up loving him more than anything. He had me long before I even realized just how bad I got it for him, long before I knew nothing was gonna feel the same without him.”

The audience’s whoops are nearly earsplitting and it takes Jimmy a few seconds to get them to quiet down enough to speak. “So you and Adam,” he stresses, agape, “That’s an actual thing.”

Blake squeezes his knees, uneasy. He knows he’s already doing a shit job at this, that he needs to step up his game if he wants to make things right for Adam.

“Man, Adam is—he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he drawls, “I told myself I didn’t give a damn that he was, you know, on the wrong team for me to get interested in him without risks. I knew he was it since the first time I kissed him. We had months of the most perfect relationship you could ever imagine, so perfect it made me think the world was perfect too and that there’d be no repercussions when the cat was out of the bag. I was so wrong about that and so blindsided by what loving a man in our business meant that I—I screwed up, Jimmy, big time. We were gonna move in together but I got cold feet and packed for a tour after breaking up with him instead. I—I pissed on everything we had.”

There are more than a few sympathetic no’s instead of the excited, almost constant yelling before Jimmy leans closer to him, dead serious. “Wow, I’m really sorry to hear that. Where are you guys now, are you together? Did you want to come here to apologize?”

“No, I already did,” Blake answers, looking down just long enough to take a deep breath, “He took me back, just like that, and even tried to talk me out of doing this but I made a promise to him and I’m keeping it. If people judge me for it and forget everything I am except for the fact that I’m in love with man, so be it, Adam’s worth that and more. I had to resign to everything to be able to say this but I get to keep Adam now and he’s all I need to be happy. This is just me trying to tell him that I can make him happy too and that I will, no matter what. I won’t hurt him again.”

“Basically what you’re saying is that you couldn’t work together after your break-up so Adam left the show but then you couldn’t go on without him,” Jimmy sums up with a small smile, “You’ve got to admit that’s romantic, buddy.”

“You can say that again,” Blake prompts, ignoring a few weeping sounds from the live audience that he’s going to take as happy tears, “It’s nice to hear the word without the b.”

“I hope your romance is as legendary as your bromance, Blake,” the host says, “There’s always been something so special between you two. I think you’re gonna make it. Thanks for coming and sharing this with us.”

Blake smiles wider, feeling like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “I sure as hell hope so. Thanks for having me.”

***

He’s never been the type of celebrity that gets chased by paparazzi but he’s practically attacked the second he steps out of the studio.

He squints through the flashes, trying to make his way to the car.

Their relationship must be quite big of a deal because the paps don’t even ask him once if he knows who the new coach on The Voice is going to be which suits him just fine. Fuck if he knows.

He has over twenty text messages and five missed calls but nothing from Adam. He calls his mom back and then puts his phone back in his pocket, way too drained to reply to whatever it is his friends are saying about what he did.

***

Blake made him promise he’d watch it, but it’s a struggle not to run out of the living room as he listens to him talking to Jimmy Fallon.

James is probably the only reason he makes it through the whole thing. It’s not bad enough that he gets to confirm what he’d already figured out when Blake left him behind so easily—that he only asked Adam out to get in his pants, because he wanted a hot piece of ass after his amenable but still grueling divorce and Adam’s was probably the closest one and had the up side of not being a girl who’d demand Blake to go public about them. He also has to sit through Blake admitting he had to leave it all to be with Adam and that makes him wish he’d died in between Blake dumping him and coming back to him.

He drove Blake away from his music, from his friends from Oklahoma too probably, and what for? He’s not—he’s not even the same funny guy Blake loved to be with.

His best friend rocks him in his arms and kisses Adam’s hair as they both listen to Blake announce his undying love for Adam but all he can hear is how he pushed Blake away from everything that he cared about in his life.

Adam breaks free from James’ hold and bolts upstairs the minute it’s over. He trips on his way there and his legs sting with the bruises that must be forming under his skin but he can hardly feel it. James is trying to calm him down but his voice can’t make it past Adam’s sobs and the ringing in his ears, at least not until Adam pushes a big porcelain figurine of a tall man with a small woman standing between his arms in his blind frenzy and it tumbles to the floor.

It breaks with a loud crash and Adam stares at it, his moans dying in his throat because it was a gift Blake gave him in their six month anniversary that was meant to be a joke but that he loved anyway. The genders were half wrong but their features and the way their bodies fit together weren’t; Adam had loved how engrossed they’d looked in each other, had wondered if that was the way Blake looked when they were chest to back and he could feel just how small Adam was compared to him.

His friends had tried to take it away but he hadn’t allowed it. Looking at it hurt after all that went down between them, sure, but it reminded Adam that at some point Blake had—in some way—considered him something precious to hold.

He’s cutting his fingertips trying to salvage some of it when James grips his wrists and hauls him to the bed.

“Adam, please,” he’s saying and he looks wrecked too, “Talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

“I broke it,” Adam hiccups. Looking around lets him know that wasn’t the only thing he broke; his room is a mess. Not even the curtains are intact but at least the guitars are, and the piano.

The guitarist seems to take comfort in the fact Adam is actually capable of eye contact now and he sighs in relief. “Let me see,” he asks. Adam stretches his fingers obediently, wincing when his friend pokes at the few shards tearing his skin.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, cringing as he imagines what kind of things he made James think. He’s already seen Adam at his worst more than once but this is new, even for him.

“Don’t be, buddy,” the blonde says and he surprises Adam smiling a little for him, “You got angry. That’s a good thing. Just let me grab some tweezers and wait for me in the bathroom, okay? Put your hands under the tap if you can.”

He nods and opens the water with the heel of his hand, watching as the blood swirls down the drain.

He’s not crying anymore even though his fingers are starting to smart. He feels strangely distant from the whole thing and instead of being happy because Blake pretty much just declared to him in front of the whole world he’s just exhausted.

His mom always told him not to ever let his happiness and wellbeing depend on somebody else. It was something he had trouble remembering with both Anne and Behati but at least with them he got tips, little hints here and there that told him they weren’t really working no matter how hard Adam kept trying for them to—no matter how much he loved them because he loved easily but loving him back never was—with Blake he’d made both the mistake of forgetting it again and believing Blake needed him as much Adam did.

“I’m sure he’ll buy a new one for you, Adam,” James tells him, bringing him back to the present. He huffs, blowing his hair out of his face as he kneels in front of Adam and picks the tiny splinters from his fingers, “Hopefully one that isn’t slightly offensive this time.”

Adam chuckles. It’s half-hearted but he doesn’t want to worry his friend more. “You mean I wouldn’t look good in a tutu? I _am_ offended by that.”

James rolls his eyes but he’s smiling back so Adam takes it as a win.

***

It’s odd, how he doesn’t even feel like running and throwing himself into Blake’s arms when he comes back that night.

He asks James to leave them alone instead and the blonde does, promising to stop by in the morning but otherwise not batting an eye at Adam’s sudden surge of courage.

“You had dinner yet?” Blake asks and it’s probably very telling, how Adam does want to hug him now that he looks so uncomfortable and uneasy, “I could—I could fix something for us.”

Adam shrugs and gives Blake his back. He still doesn’t feel as strong as he used to be but he’ll get there if he tries hard enough. There’s an icy current in his veins that’s not quite strength but it’s something; it’s better than the hollowness that’s been plaguing him since Blake left.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, “Eat whatever you want. You know where the guestrooms are, if you’re spending the night. I have a mess to fix in mine.”

For a moment he’s convinced Blake is going to follow him in a whirlwind of fury, that he’s going to spin him around and grab him by the chin and shake him while yelling how he’s given everything up to be with a little bitch like Adam and how he’s already regretting it.

He hears him going to the kitchen instead, opening the fridge and the cupboards—maybe stirring something on a pan. Adam goes there to pick some trash bags, a broom and a shovel and runs back to his bedroom to get rid of the things he ruined and right the furniture he shoved out of place.

He’s finished climbing to get the strips of the curtains that were still hanging down and is using a chair to reach for some old ones in a box in the far end of his closet when he almost falls and feels a big, warm hand on the small of his back preventing him from tripping.

“Easy,” Blake soothes when Adam all but bristles, like he’s one of his horses back in the ranch and could get spooked by the littlest thing.

Blake puts him down without Adam actually asking and there’s nothing new in how he always does whatever he wants but it’s okay; Adam got what he wanted and he wriggles out of his grip and climbs onto one of the armchairs to get to work. The bandages wrapped on his fingers slow him down a little bit but he’s still quick in getting the fabric in the loops.

“Adam,” Blake says into the silence as Adam’s finishing the right side, “I just want you to eat a little, would you do that for me, baby?”

Adam scoffs—it comes out more like a sniffle but he clenches his jaw and pretends it didn’t happen. “I told you, Blake, I’m not hungry. Are you gonna make me eat anyway?”

“I’m not gonna make you,” Blake amends gently, “I’m just asking, darling, please?”

“Oh, really? Like you asked me if I was okay with you breaking things off between us?” Adam retorts, jumping down and almost falling on his knees but pushing his lover away when he tries to steady him, “That kind of asking?”

It’s a low blow and he regrets it the second it’s out of his mouth but it’s too late. Blake flinches and stares at him and Adam can’t believe what he just did. He covers his mouth with a hand for a long moment, feeling like the worst scumbag on Earth.

Blake did this amazing thing for him and this is how he’s paying him? What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Sorry,” he mumbles, gripping one of his arms tightly to his side by the elbow, “I’ll—I’ll eat, yeah.”

The olive branch is enough to clear that awful hurt look from Blake’s eyes. Adam eats about half a plate of omelet with some spinach in it and Blake smiles at him with his dimples and doesn’t even ask what happened for him to be this upset, if it was something he said during his talk on The Tonight Show or not.

Adam is glad he doesn’t; the last thing he wants to do is making Blake feel bad about it, about being so generous and brave and incredible. He never thought his boyfriend could do something like that, not even when things were good between them, he’d always psyched himself up for an unending string of innuendos and implicit admissions until people finally figured out they were together.

This is better, it really is, and he should be grateful Blake decided to give it to him, that he thinks Adam is worth it. That should be all he cares about. His own feelings shouldn’t matter.

He takes the dishes to the sink and walks sheepishly to stand between Blake’s legs. It doesn’t take long for the older man to pull him into his lap and he’s tense until he realizes Blake won’t drill him with questions; it seems he’s happy just nuzzling Adam’s face and shoulders through his hoodie and pecking each of his bandaged fingers as if to kiss them better.

Adam traces every feature on Blake’s face. It’s the first time he lets himself take a good, close look at him and it’s like he aged ten years in the time they were apart. He frowns, his fingertips getting acquainted with every new wrinkle, and leans in to kiss Blake’s brow when he closes his eyes under Adam’s ministrations. He hesitates quite a bit but the way he can feel Blake relaxing against him soothes him, makes his heartbeat slow down enough for him to breathe a little easier.

“I don’t want you to give up music, Blake, I can’t take that,” he says out of the blue a few minutes later. Blake opens his eyes quickly and takes one of Adam’s hands to kiss his knuckles.

He cups Adam’s face and it blows his mind how soft his eyes are despite of everything, “It’s done, darling, and it’s okay. I told you it is.”

“Let me sign you for my label, please,” he begs, “You can do whatever you want; country, rock, both, neither, I don’t care. I’d hire you even if I didn’t know you, your voice is that amazing and you shouldn’t have to give that up.”

“Maybe later,” his lover appeases, “Right now, all I wanna do is focus on you.”

“Okay,” Adam concedes because it’s not a no and he’s so tired he drops it and presses his forehead on the crook of Blake’s neck; it’s the best place to relish the gentle rumble in Blake’s chest as he keeps talking.

When he blinks again, they’re in his bed and Blake is curled on his back, nuzzling his nape as his arms hold Adam close. He stripped Adam until only his tee and his boxers stayed and for an excruciating moment he thinks the taller man will want to have sex now but Blake feels soft against his ass and he’s the first to fall asleep, his breathing evening out not too long afterward.

It takes him a while to convince himself this warmth he’s missed so much will still be there in the morning.

***

He wakes Adam up with a deep kiss, hoping his lips and his tongue remind his little lover just how good and easy things have always been between them.

Adam is pliant and responsive while he’s half asleep but tenses the minute his eyes flicker open and he’s alert again. Blake sighs and gives him one last smooch before manhandling him to lie on top of him; it’s ridiculously easy, even more than it used to be, and it helps Adam to relax against him once more.

There’s noise coming from downstairs and if he gets a little irritated about Adam’s friends being around so early, it’s only because things haven’t worked out the way he wanted. His magical moment on TV didn’t fix a goddamn thing between them, just turned Adam into a scrawny little Tasmanian devil from the looks of it.

He’s still on probation and he deserves every bit of it, he reminds himself, so when Adam practically shuts the bathroom door in his face he doesn’t get mad. He sighs deeply, as if trying to expel frustration out of his being, and pulls his jeans back on to go to the kitchen.

He should’ve expected Carson to be there but he didn’t. He stands in the doorframe and freezes mid-way to buttoning his shirt and he can’t really savor the softer looks he’s getting from Adam’s bandmates since his bud grabs him by the elbow and walks him to the living room.

“I saw the show,” the host says.

“Morning to you too,” Blake greets. He’s got a lecture coming so he doesn’t think he can be blamed for trying to worm his way out of it, “Look, I know what you’re gonna say, I—“

“No, you don’t,” Carson cuts in, motioning with his chin for Blake to sit his ass down on the couch, which he does cursing under his breath, “I bet you didn’t even think about Adam not liking it, did you? You thought it was such a grand gesture it was fail-safe to get you to his good side again but you forgot that when you hurt people, they don’t react the way you want them to, not anymore.”

“You know nothing about why I did it,” he spits out, “I didn’t do it to clean my good name, if that’s what you’re saying, I did it because I need to show him he’s important and I couldn’t think of something better.”

Carson sighs and drops beside him. It’s amazing how the confrontational air between them dies down just like that. “Did it work?”

He looks down at his hands, kinda feeling like he got whiplash, “I don’t know,” he replies, open.

Carson pats his back, “Sorry for the bad cop I played there for a second, I needed to make sure you did it for the right reasons.”

“I think he’s mad at me,” Blake confesses, glancing at the stairs to make sure Adam isn’t there somewhere.

“Give him time, buddy. Give him time.”

***

When Adam and his friends lock themselves in his studio for a couple of hours, Blake goes to his rental house and grabs his stuff. He doesn’t even try to avoid the paps because he’s in LA and it’s a lost battle so he lets them take their pictures and pretends they don’t exist as long as they don’t get in his way.

He buys food on his way back and entertains himself cooking for the band after throwing his things in a guestroom.

Asking Adam about whether it’d be okay for him to move in right away or not had been like accidentally shooting himself in the foot; Adam had said yes instantly and practically begged him to do it but he’d looked so terrified too it was all Blake could do not to break down right there. It was a long shot from the bubbly happiness he’d gotten the first time after suggesting it and he misses those times, misses when everything was easy between them and not this raw.

_“You’re fucking with me,” Adam says, narrowing his eyes in skepticism. It’s late or early, depending on how you choose to see it, and after not seeing each other for two months it feels so right to have Adam in his arms again that Blake’s not really thinking about what he’s saying._

_Blake wriggles his eyebrows, “You do seem to like it a lot, what can I say? And you’re so goddamn lithe I like it a hell of a lot too. Maybe I wanna do it more often. It’d be easier if we lived together, is all I’m saying.”_

_“You’re such an ass,” Adam complains but his lips are curling like he’s trying not to laugh, “This isn’t how you do it, you know. Aren’t Country singers supposed to be romantic? Your songs are so cheesy, dude, I don’t get it.”_

_Blake is more than happy to remind Adam exactly how much he enjoys his ‘cheesy’ songs. He picks Sangria to play on the younger man’s iPhone and makes love to him all over again, nice and slow, and that seals the deal._

_When they’re sated again—for the moment, at least, he swears Adam’s skin and his mouth are like drugs for him—and tangled beneath the sheets, he asks again. Softer this time and loving, like a gentleman should, “Let’s buy a house together so I can see your pretty face every morning, so we don’t have to say I love you on the phone unless we really have to. You’re a city boy and I don’t wanna change that, I’m just asking you make a tiny bit of room for this hick in your life.”_

_Adam gives him a long, intense kiss that makes every hair in his body stand as response. It’s just too bad he isn’t twenty anymore._

_He cards his long, slender fingers through Blake’s curls while they’re gasping and he’s not smiling, not with his mouth, but his eyes are so bright he might as well be, “A tiny bit of room? I’ve got news for you, Big Country, you’re an actual giant so you wouldn’t fit, but I think we can work something out.”_

_Blake pretends to consider his words, leaning into the hand Adam has curled on his upper back. “Really? Huh, well. I always knew you were a size queen.”_

_It’s funnier because he has yet to pull out and Adam blushes to the tip of his ears as he screeches for him to shut the fuck up._

_The pillow he gets to the face with enough force to make his nose sting is totally worth it._

***

He talks Adam into teaching him yoga a couple of weeks later, as soon as he seems to be up for it instead of spending most of his days either dozing on Blake’s shoulder or somewhere around the house if he happened to be doing something. The front man swears up and down he’s too rusty, that they should call his instructor and let the man guide them through a routine, but Blake is having none of it.

It’s not about learning yoga, not really, it’s just a way for them to get close again without Adam acting like Blake could force him into something he doesn’t want. Feeling Adam’s hands on his body, adjusting his shitty posture, lingering and familiar in the way only the hands of a lover can be is just what they need. After a few days of the same routine Blake doesn’t really need his help but accepts it joyfully when Adam keeps offering it and touching him.

He’s stiff as a pole and almost as big, he’s always been aware of that, but Adam doesn’t tease him about it and sticks to poses Blake can actually do without ending up pulling muscles for trying to turn into a pretzel.

Very slowly and grudgingly, they’re left alone more often in the house. James and Jesse are the ones that call the most but Adam sounds more cheerful and a little more like himself each day that passes. It’s not like they don’t see the guys almost every day, busy as they get working in an impromptu album that’s even better than their last one even though they said they were taking a break after V. Blake is really glad that they don’t go through with it and enjoys sitting in the studio as they record it; there are a few things he likes more than listening to Adam’s pristine voice and watching his boyfriend pushing himself to the very limits of his talent is something he can’t put into words or even think about without getting a stupid look of awe on his face.

It’s not exactly dancing club material, existing in that limbo between pop and rock music Blake’s never been able to get completely, but he knows it’s going to be a huge success and it’s not because the songs are about him and little else. It’s because they’re pouring all their feelings of the tough months they went through into their music and it shows. Even the instrumentation gives Blake goose bumps.

Adam’s hanging from a beam of the ceiling doing push-ups of all things after pouting until Blake picked him up and got him there so he could act like a monkey to his heart’s content. It’s a refreshing and heartening thing to see after seeing him still and blue for so long and he could watch his lover all day being silly like that, the conversation they’re having about the title for the album pretty much background noise for him.

“No way, no _fucking_ way!” Jesse exclaims loud enough to draw his attention, “Man, tell him something.”

It takes him a moment to realize he’s being addressed. He furrows his brow and looks back up at Adam who’s giggling and trying not to fall down since his laughter when it’s genuine tends to takes over his whole body so Blake holds his waist and gets him back on his feet.

“What am I supposed to be talking you out of?” he asks.

Matt huffs somewhere on his right, “He wants to name the album ‘Songs about Blake’.”

“No, you don’t,” Blake counters but the cheeky grin on Adam’s face lets him know he’s actually serious about it, “Gosh, you do.”

And he gets it, he really does. Adam’s always been the kind of guy who takes the bull by the horns, the kind of person who doesn’t let insults have any power over him and uses them as if he’s picked them out himself to strip them from their meaning and give them a new one of his own making. He owns them, takes pride in them even, and it’s one of the things he loves the most about his lover.

Blake knows where Adam’s going with this, knows he doesn’t want to leave any room for anyone to make fun of what they have, but it’s a bold move even for him and Blake’s not sure it’s the right one.

“C’mere,” he says, sitting Adam in his lap and kissing him briefly, “Why don’t you sleep on it, sweetheart? Come up with a few alternatives to send the same message. I know you can do it.”

“But it fits!” Adam insists and he’s putting his foot down even though his forehead is brushing Blake’s, “And isn’t this what people have been bugging us about since fucking forever? To release another album like Songs about Jane?”

Blake strokes Adam’s cheek with his thumb and pulls him just a bit closer to his body. It’s playing dirty but he’s not above it. “I’m sure the guys are considering it, but please, for me?”

Adam stutters a breath, his eyes going hooded as he stares at Blake’s lips. “Yeah, okay.”

***

He’s so used to sneaking out of bed to deal with his body’s enthusiasm after a night—or a nap—of curling around Adam’s little body that he’s on autopilot the Sunday morning Adam finally reaches out to stop him.

He moves onto his lap with the grace and speed of a cat, straddling his legs and starting a kiss that’s almost all tongue and electric want. There’s a glimmer in his eyes when they part to pant against each other’s mouths and Blake can’t really help the love bite he sucks on Adam’s neck because it’s happening, he can feel it, and he can’t control himself anymore.

He manhandles Adam back on the mattress and has him naked and under him in record time, but he does takes it slow to open him up. It’s been a long, long while after all and he’ll be damned if he hurts him for rushing this.

Adam spreads his legs for him, breathing hard and keeping his eyes tightly shut. It’s all the clue Blake gets of how uncertain he still is sometimes about Blake wanting him even though he’s not all toned muscles anymore; it was never about that, not for him, and if anything Adam’s self-consciousness is endearing and flattering. His own body is regular instead of extraordinary and even a little too round in some places but Adam’s never touched and kissed him like Blake was anything short of incredible for him and that’s everything he needs to lay himself bare and feel at ease.

He doesn’t last long the first time but neither does Adam and the second time is ten times better; they get to take all the time in the world to kiss and get to know each other again after taking the edge off and there’s something to say about being able to just push right in when it’s time and Adam’s open and wet for him already. He could write songs about how good it feels, how right, and there’s almost a melody ready for him to discover somewhere in him as he drives into Adam and his lover hooks a leg on his elbow and takes it like he was made for it.

Blake leans down to nip and lick at the inviting span of Adam’s arched neck and he swears he falls apart while simultaneously feeling like he’s finally whole. There are no edges between them as they move together and he could die like this, losing himself between Adam’s legs, and it’d be the sweetest way to go.

He can’t believe he thought for even a second that he could live without this.

If Adam’s moans are quieter than they used to be, small and stuttered at first, Blake makes it his mission to give him so much pleasure he has no choice but to voice it until his throat is raw and he all but forgets they were ever apart.

***

Adam talks his friends into being on board with the title he suggested.

In the end, James laughs and tells Blake they didn’t stand a chance once Adam decided it was what he wanted to do and he has a feeling he’s not the only one who accepts it out of sheer relief that Adam seems to be back one hundred percent to the dumb but daring man he’s always been, the one that speaks his mind and does what he feels like doing and apologizes later if he has to but never regrets his decisions.

Blake gets a record deal with 222 records and releases an album with only ballads that aren’t quite Country but aren’t rock either. He’s not ashamed to admit he takes a page out of Adam’s book and writes about sex mostly because that’s what he feels like doing and Adam taught him that’s what rock and roll is all about.

It pays off wonderfully when it sells like hotcakes and he ends up boosting Adam’s label to be much bigger than it ever was.

***

Adam is bringing the laundry when he bumps into the little velvety box in Blake’s socks drawer. He tries thinking why this is the first time he sees it to figure out how long it’s been sitting there and remembers this is actually the first time they’ve been this domestic even though it’s been over six months since Blake moved in. Up until recently whoever had some spare time threw some clothes in the washing machine and they went to fetch their things and put them right on—what with how hectic life had been for them after the release of their new albums—usually after some enthusiastic round of sex in the near vicinity of the machine or even on top of it sometimes.

He opens it with trembling fingers and drops it like he’s been stung when he catches a glimpse of what’s inside; two gold bands. He feels sick to his stomach, sure Blake’s kept his and Miranda’s rings and still misses her because why wouldn’t he? She was the light of his eyes and their marriage was supposed to be it for Blake. He puts it back, wishing he’d never seen it in the first place.

He doesn’t mention the box and Blake doesn’t notice something’s up when he’s back from a couple of interviews he had. They make dinner together and Blake fucks him on the couch while it cooks. He doesn’t eat much, hiding under Blake’s chin so he can’t tell how upset he is instead, but Blake is so immersed watching the new season of The Voice he just feeds him a few more bites when he sees Adam’s plate is almost full.

“You’re so needy,” he teases Adam and it’s so true it hurts to hear it even with the forehead kiss Blake gives him to soften it, “I can’t be around to baby you all the time, honey, you’re gonna have to be a big boy and eat all on your lonesome sometimes.”

“I’m just tired,” Adam lies, tacking on a, “jackass,” that’s halfhearted at best but that does its job and makes Blake laugh.

All the kisses and caresses Blake gives him thinking he’s annoyed by what he said soothe him enough to sleep. It’s not like he didn’t know he’s never been The One for Blake, regardless of what he said that day on The Tonight Show, and he might not be The One with capital letters but he’s the one who gets to be with Blake now. That’s all that matters.

He still dreams with Blake asking him to marry him. There are tear tracks on his cheeks in the morning and he’s not fast enough to wipe them before Blake sees them. His boyfriend is enough of a creep to like watching him sleep whenever he can and that’s what he was doing so Adam doesn’t get to hide from him this time.

“Honey, what is it?” he asks, concerned.

Adam doesn’t want to talk about this, not in the slightest, but when Blake kisses his cheeks and looks at him expectantly he can’t lie to him again.

“Can you keep the rings someplace else? I don’t mind that you have them, I really don’t, I just—I don’t want them in our bedroom.”

Blake curses but at least he doesn’t let go, his hand still under Adam’s borrowed tee resting on the small of his back, “You found the box, of course you did. Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you finding out this way, you deserve so much better.”

Adam scowls and talks over Blake as he’s saying, “you deserve the whole shebang,” or something like that, to ask, “What?”

But Blake doesn’t seem to hear him, sits them both on the bed instead and cups his cheek with a smile that has no guilt in it as Adam was expecting it would.

“I guess any moment can be the right moment when you’ve got the right person,” Blake says, apparently mostly to himself, and looks sheepishly at him before kissing him sweetly on the mouth, “Let me at least get on one knee before asking.”

Adam wants to scream at this point. Blake disentangles from him and walks into the closet so quickly he can just gape at his retreating back and wait for him to get back.

It doesn’t add up, not until Blake tugs him to stand up and literally gets on one knee for him as he opens the little jewelry box that looks tiny in his fingers. Adam takes a closer, better look at the contents and realizes there’s a third ring inside; it’s silver and thinner than the others but it doesn’t exactly look delicate, not even with the line of small diamonds in the middle, and Adam’s heart has never felt lighter than in that moment.

That ring—it’s for him and the other two are meant for them. They’re not a memento, they’re their _future_.

Blake is proposing.

“I—huh,” Blake clears his throat, looking up at him with a nervous smile, “I didn’t know if you’re supposed to get engagement rings for men but I figured what the hell? I wanted to get you one so here it is.”

Adam bites his bottom lip. Blake’s in the rattiest pair of sweatpants he owns and Adam’s naked under his t-shirt but this is still better than any dream he could ever have because it’s real.

“Isn’t your knee getting numb, babe?” he rasps, “C’mon. Ask me. I wanna kiss you.”

Blake licks his lips, holds the box a little higher as he squares his shoulders and gets serious. “Adam Noah Levine, would you marry me?”

“Yes,” Adam gasps immediately, doesn’t even think about it, “Hell yeah.”

Blake chuckles, murmurs a, “so classy,” but slides the ring on Adam’s finger and pulls him in for a kiss as Adam’s dropping down to cling to his neck. It fits perfectly on his finger and he tries really hard to stop crying but Blake doesn’t seem to mind the tears this time, not when he knows they’re happy tears.

He guides Adam back to the bed and holds his left hand tight in his right, entwining their fingers, as he all but seems to want to get lost deep inside him and Adam eggs him on until they both have nothing in their minds but the friction of their bodies sliding against each other and the sparks of pleasure running through their spines.

Yoga can wait—breakfast too, their jobs, everything, because this might not be perfect or unbreakable but Adam will take it all for however long he can have it.


End file.
